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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799600">The countdown 'til Christmas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyExplosiveContent/pseuds/HighlyExplosiveContent'>HighlyExplosiveContent</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Additional Tags to Come, Anniversary, Christmas Cards, Christmas Decorations, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Movies, Christmas Tree, Connor wants to experience christmas, Developing Relationship, Domestic, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff and Angst, Gingerbread House, Hank is santa, Ice Skating, Lingerie, M/M, Office Party, Pin up Hank, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Skiing, Spa Treatments, markets, mentions of past trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:41:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>42,284</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27799600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighlyExplosiveContent/pseuds/HighlyExplosiveContent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor's first Christmas wasn't much to talk about, due to constant new cases of android-related crimes that kept him and Hank busy.<br/>So of course now that he has forced Hank to take a few weeks off in december 2039, all bets are off - They are going to have a terrific countdown 'til Christmas, if it's the last thing he does!</p><p>--</p><p>In which I'll be posting a day in the life of Connor and Hank every day until Christmas.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Anderson/Connor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>93</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Off to a great start</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/raziella/gifts">raziella</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome to my Christmas calendar!!! This is going to be scenes from every day of Connor and Hank's days up until the 24th/possibly 25th. As I'm writing this I have finished 16 days out of 24 so I WILL FINISH THIS OKAY.</p><p>The first days will be backstory/build up, but I promise we'll get to the fluffy holiday Spirit once things get going!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Fuck me!” Hank roars at such a loud volume that Connor can feel the inside of his head vibrate. It’s an interesting choice of words, though he has come to understand that Hank swearing never bears any true meaning, other than to relieve stress. The tone of Hank’s voice is worrying however - He has never yelled like that before, and Connor has learned from one year of living together that Hank yells, a lot. </p><p>Thirty minutes ago, Hank ventured outside to shovel snow from the front porch and the driveway. Like always, Connor offered to help, and as usual Hank refused. When Connor runs outside he doesn’t find Hank with the old shovel in his hands, standing by his car where he found him last time. No, this time Hank lies on his back, shovel pressed down into the soft snow next to him. It’s dark outside, the only light coming from the street lights. A quick scan tells Connor what anyone could have guessed - Hank slipped on the ice and fell right on his back. There’s no sign of any broken bones, but there’s a dark bruise forming by his hip, and Connor thinks he might have sprained his ankle. </p><p>Hank swears some more, then looks up at Connor, face red.</p><p>“What are you waiting for? Help me the fuck up!” </p><p>Connor wastes no time, jogging out with no shoes on and pulls his friend up by his hand. Hank groans, flinching when Connor grabs his other hand to get him to standing position. He drops Connor’s hands as soon as he can stand up, but a shift in his gait is all the confirmation Connor needs that he has injured himself.</p><p>“Come on, no more work today,” he says and slides one arm around his waist, careful not to put any pressure on the sore hip.</p><p>“Just what I needed this goddamn winter,” Hank mumbles. There’s wet snow clinging to his coat and jeans, and Connor reaches behind him to roughly pat the snow away before it melts completely.</p><p>“I’ll get you some painkillers, why don’t you sit down?” Connor offers, placing Hank gently down on the kitchen chair. The light is best in the kitchen. </p><p>There’s a wet “splat” noise coming from Hank’s boots. Connor makes a note to get Hank a pair of new ones without holes in them.</p><p>“Fuck me,” Hank mutters again, letting out a loud sigh. Connor comes back with a glass of water and some medicine, and he checks Hank’s levels of physical distress. He’s definitely going to be favouring his other leg for a few weeks, but his loud complaints more likely stem from the adrenaline leaving his body after the fall. Once he sits back and breathes for a few moments, he seems to come back to himself. Connor sits back on his haunches and takes his sprained foot in his hands, lifting it up.</p><p>“Hey now,” Hank protests when Connor pulls off his wet sock, “What are you doing?” He tries to pull his foot back, but Connor keeps a firm grip on it. He has no patience for Hank's embarrassment about the human body. He doesn't care about smelly feet, or thick skin that peels on the soles of feet.</p><p>“Let me, I’m just gonna check it.”</p><p>Hank relents, heaving another heavy sigh, but allowing Connor to check. It’s swollen and red. It might take weeks to heal.</p><p>He's thinking about their planned trip in two weeks, and it seems Hank is, too.</p><p>"This might become a problem you know." </p><p>Connor knows it might, and he resents the idea.</p><p> Both of them have been on their feet pretty much everyday since last November. Once Hank was off suspension and Fowler figured out a way to keep Connor as an employee, they have been partners at the new division for android related crimes. Unsurprisingly, crimes  multiplied within the month and they kept coming, so neither Hank nor Connor felt like they could take a week off to just relax.</p><p>Now, Connor can work tirelessly. He's built for it, after all. But Hank is human, and Connor started noticing a decline in his health.</p><p>That's why Connor finally put his foot down in October,  demanding that they both would take a vacation. </p><p>Hank was not pleased, being too worked up about all the things that needed to be done. Say what you want about him, but when Hank really gets working, he lets the job swallow him whole. The idea of leaving, even for the weekend, was met with a frown on Hank’s part.</p><p>Oh, what a difference a year can make.</p><p>"If you say that we might as well work then I might just lock you inside the house. Honestly, I'll just keep you here to stop you from making this injury more serious."</p><p>“I’ve had worse. Come on, I’m not gonna stand up all day, just need to get some painkillers…” With that, Hank stands up from his chair in the kitchen. Or rather, he tries to stand up and fails miserably. He hugs his side and hisses, but other than that, he schools his face. Connor bristles at the pure disregard for his health, and so to prove a point, he walks around the kitchen table and pokes him in the side. </p><p>“Ow! What the fuck!?” Hank roars, waving off Connor’s jabbing finger.</p><p>“You’re hurt,” Connor says. “You’re gonna stay home until you can get out of this chair without grimacing like that. “</p><p>“Connor, I’m 54 years old, I always grimace when I have to get up!” Hank complains, though he seems to have given up. He sighs loudly, leaning back against the chair. His lips twitch, just a little.  “Fuck, and here we were going to go on vacation.”</p><p>He doesn’t sound very sad about it, and Connor kicks him in his shin, not hard but hard enough for him to yelp in response. </p><p>“You promised to be nice about it,” Connor says. </p><p>“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just… You gotta know by now that I’m no fun being around. I just think you’d have a hell of a better time with Markus and the others.” Hank looks pleadingly at him, like he's looking for an out, and that makes something snap in Connor.</p><p>“I didn’t want to go with them, I wanted to go with <em> you! </em>” he says, voice louder and there’s a bit of a pout in his tone, but he feels the disappointment like acid on his tongue. He stalks out of the kitchen and sits down in the living room, drawing his knees up to his chin.</p><p>“Con,” Hank calls from the kitchen.</p><p>Connor doesn’t answer. He’s crossing his arms over his knees, thinking about their earlier conversation about this trip.</p><p>Hank was uncertain about this all along, he protested when Connor suggested that they go on vacation. Hank is tired and overworked, and though Connor knows he shouldn’t be angry about Hank falling over, he is.</p><p>“Connor, come on,” Hank tries again, struggling to get out of the chair. Connor wants to tell him that this wouldn’t have happened if he’d just let him shovel the snow. In a fit of spite, he listens to Hank wobble over to him on his good foot, hissing at the pain. </p><p>“I’m sorry, okay?” Hank murmurs when he's coming up behind Connor. He sits down next to him, swinging an arm up on the back of the couch. He scrubs a hand over his face. “Listen, I think this is difficult, to feel like I’m responsible-- Like I could fuck up your experience of the world.”</p><p>“You never fuck them up, in my opinion.” Connor hears himself still pouting, but he feels his resolve loosen when Hank starts talking. "I just wish you could be more excited about things."</p><p>"I am--"</p><p>"Besides work."</p><p>Hank opens his mouth. Closes it. He scratches his beard thoughtfully.</p><p>"I see. Fuck."</p><p>Connor studies his face, lifting his head from the cradle of his arms.</p><p>" Connor, I'm sorry. Haven't been a good… Haven't been very nice in a while, huh?"</p><p>" You're still good, you just need to take a break. Not just because I want you to be well enough to go skiing.” Though it is a part of the reason, Connor admits to himself. "Your stress levels have been unusually high, and it affects both your work and your mood at home." He continues, feeling like he's on a roll now. "I just think you should stay home for a couple of days."</p><p>Hank sets one heavy palm on Connor’s shoulder, squeezing it.</p><p>"Look, you can't keep me cooped up in here just because I might have sprained my ankle. I swear I won't push myself until it feels better, and I'll just stick with desk work, okay?"</p><p> His eyes squint as he smiles at Connor, that warm expression that Connor’s systems have categorized into the file that says, “home”.</p><p>"Okay," Connor agrees, trying and failing to suppress his smile.</p><p>"It's still another two week before we leave," Hank reminds him, "It might be healed by then."</p><p>"I'm sorry for forcing you to do this," Connor whispers.</p><p>“Hey, you couldn't force me to do anything," Hank says, and though Connor can tell he's working hard to be uplifting, he appreciates the effort. He slowly feels his mood shifting, anyhow. It's hard to still be mad when he feels Hank's pulse through his hand. </p><p>"For what it’s worth, I am honored that you want to share these things with me,” Hank says, his voice smooth as caramel, “And I want this to be a good vacation for you. We’ll make it work somehow. I might just not get down the slope as much as we’d planned.”</p><p>Connor opens his mouth to inform Hank that there’s not much to do at a ski resort if you can’t ski, but then his systems conjure images of the both of them huddled up in warm blankets by a fire, of Hank sweating in a sauna, of the two of them drinking wine at a nice restaurant… And his internal fans begin to whirr embarrassingly loudly.</p><p>“Connor?”</p><p>Hank lightly taps Connor’s temple, and he blinks his eyes to clear his head.</p><p>“Yeah, of course. It’s still a vacation.” Then he smirks. "I may have a few activities in mind that don’t require any ski wear."</p><p>Hank snorts. "Of course you do, you tease."</p><p>He stands up again, hissing through his teeth at the pain in his side. He's going to be in more pain tomorrow, Connor thinks. But despite his sore side and his souring mood, Hank cracks his back and lifts Connor up to his feet, kissing his forehead.</p><p>"We're gonna have a good december," he murmurs into Connor's hair. "I'll make sure of it."</p><p>There's a <em>sorry</em> baked in there, Connor can tell, and he finally feels hopeful about the coming month.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Anniversary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>One month earlier</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I’m not gonna play Santa, no matter how many times you beg me,” Hank says gruffly, annoyance building as Jeffrey approaches the subject once more. “Don't you think I’ve made an ass of myself enough times in this place?” He stares at Jeffrey with a pointed look, hoping his friend will drop the subject.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Knowing Jeffrey, he knows he won’t. </em>
</p><p><em> "This is not me asking you for a favor," Jeffrey growls, and Hank wonders if he's stepped in it. </em> <em> “This is a command from your boss after two years of being a fucking pain in my ass!”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Jeffrey Fowler is a good man, and a fair boss, most of the time. He is a well respected captain and generally liked. After thirty years of friendship with Hank, however, his patience often wears thin. Not that Hank makes it easy on him, of course - Hank knows that. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Using his depression as a guilt trip for him to take the Santa-gig is not what HR would consider ethically acceptable, but neither is Hank’s previous behaviours. He groans, leans back in his seat. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck me, but you’re not gonna back on this, are you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Jeffrey only stares at him in response. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s one evening, Hank. Not even that, it’s thirty minutes at most. You’re just gonna sit there, hand out some candy to the kids, and then you can change back. What’s the problem, you used to do this every year before!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The audacity to bring that up. Hank bristles, but reigns it in, as he knows Jeffrey wouldn’t nag on him for this if it wasn’t his last resort. He’s somewhat glad as well that Jeff doesn’t shy away from talking about the past - it would be weird in all honesty, to pretend that the years prior was some random act of self destruction, and not a result of Hank’s guilt and grief manifesting in aggression and negligence to his work. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hank thinks for a moment, then glances back at Jeff, now staring at him with big puppy eyes. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> --- </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p><em> Connor looks up from his desk, bright and happy as usual. </em> <em> “ Ready to leave, Lieutenant?”  </em></p><p>
  <em> “Yeah, just give me a minute,” Hank grumbles, logging into the terminal to shut off the reports he was writing earlier. Gavin scoffs behind them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Getting back home to your love den with your boy toy?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hank has gotten used to Gavin’s snide remarks - the man has been single for too long, he assumes, and can’t wait to bring people down for having a love life. There might be some jealousy in there as well. After all, Hank has seen the way Gavin has been looking at Connor, as if he can’t decide if he wants to kill him, or fuck him. It’s funny to Hank, though, that Gavin sees competition in him, of all people. Especially since Hank and Connor are not, in fact, dating.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Whatever, asshole,” Hank mutters. “Watch out before I call HR.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He is very much aware of the fact that he and Connor are nothing more than coworkers and roommates. He couldn’t possibly ask to be more, though he sometimes wishes that Connor would look at him the way he’s sure he himself looks at Connor.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They pack up and get ready to leave, when Gavin hurls another comment at them. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Didn’t know we're actually allowed to fuck our superiors around here,” he says, venom in his voice. Hank looks up at Connor, and when he sees the color drain from Connor's face, he barks at Gavin to shut his fucking mouth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not used to receiving any real backlash, Gavin recoils when Hank growls at him, and he leaves the bullpen muttering to himself about “ Old man. Fucking asshole.”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Satisfied with getting the bastard to back off, Hank escorts himself and Connor outside. He does notice Connor being exceptionally quiet today, though. His extremely accurate impressions of Gavin’s snide remarks are left unsaid this time. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not even once they’re driving back home does he comment on what happened at work, which in itself is unusual . Hank comes up with a few lame jokes to lighten the mood that soured considerably when Gavin piped up. Connor smiles at the attempts, but he doesn’t roll his eyes at Hank’s bad humor, doesn’t make fun of Gavin for being so pathetic. His LED is working like crazy, switching from yellow to red, staying there for the entire ride home.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Parked in the driveway to the house, Hank turns the ignition off and turns to Connor in the passenger seat, one arm leaning over his headrest. Connor doesn’t move to open the door, but he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at Hank. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Okay,” Hank says after a minute of stony silence. “Why are you upset?” When Connor doesn’t answer, Hank gets nervous and continues, “Everyone at work knows why you live with me. Gavin is just being - Well, Gavin.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Most of their work since last year surrounds cases of androids getting fucked by society - kicked to the curb by the companies that used to own them, homeless androids squatting in abandoned buildings and such. After the revolution, it was only natural for Hank to offer Connor a spot in his house.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I know,” Connor says, his voice unusually quiet. His LED finally stays yellow. He glances at Hank.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Then why do you care this time?” Hank tries, hating the distraught look on Connor’s face. “Listen, no one thinks we’re dating, it’s fine.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Connor’s jaw clenches, and his LED goes right back to red.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They stare at each other for a few seconds, then Connor breaks the eye contact, opening the car door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s nothing,” he says. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "We could take it up with HR if you'd like," Hank tries, unable to quite grasp what's going on. "Lord knows I'm used to this kind of talk, but Gavin has really been pushing it these past weeks. You don't have to listen to--" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "That's not why I'm-" Connor starts, then shuts his mouth with a click. His LED turns red again. He stands up, closes the car door. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh,” Hank breathes, not knowing what else to say, as Connor walks to the house and gets inside. He feels glued to the driver’s seat, having difficulty getting air into his lungs at the moment. “Con! Hey, wait up!” he calls once his mind stops racing, and even though he says this so much later after Connor left the car that it’s comical, he finds Connor standing stock still in the living room, staring at the floor. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Connor?” he tries again. Connor doesn’t move, and when he speaks his voice is so soft that Hank is not entirely sure he heard right. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I don’t want it to be a rumor.” Connor turns slowly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. “Why does it have to be a source of humor, the idea that we might…” He stops himself, crossing his arms. “It’s a joke to him, and our colleagues. Like the idea of me, with you. Like it’s laughable.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hank tilts his head to the side, trying to understand. “Connor. It <strong>is</strong> a bit of a joke, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be at your expense.” He drags a hand through his hair. It’s dirty, but he didn’t feel like showering this morning. “It’s just. Well, the idea of you choosing to date <strong>me </strong> is kind of funny--” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And why is it funny?” Connor asks, anger in his voice. “Why?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hank opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t really have an answer to give Connor, not any one that won’t earn him a slap on the back of his head.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Because…” he starts, waving his hands over his own self as if that’s explanation enough, “Because you could literally have anyone, theway you are! That’s why it’s funny.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Connor’s mouth is a thin line. “I’m not laughing,” he says, then heads for the door, ignoring Hank’s hand reaching for him. “I’m taking Sumo out for a walk.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hank lets him leave. He doesn't know what else to do. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If Connor really was his. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> If he really was Hank's, he’d never let him go. He knows as much. And if Connor wanted him, then Hank would do anything in his power to let him know just how wanted he is. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Connor comes back an hour later, wiping off Sumo’s paws and hanging his collar on the hatrack. He enters the kitchen where Hank is eating dinner, carefully </em> <em> like he’s unsure whether he’s allowed back inside. </em> <em> . The heated lasagna on his plate has turned cold again, Hank realizing that he has no appetite. </em> <em>   He straightens up in his chair, shooting the plate away from himself. He sighs through his nose, loudly, hoping that his expression is welcoming. Connor deflates, dragging his feet towards him. He doesn’t sit down on a chair, but perches on the edge of the kitchen table. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Con?”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Connor looks at him, his eyes tracing every line of Hank’s face. Hank instinctively grabs his hands, prompting him to make eye contact. When Connor looks up, his eyes are shiny. Something shifts in the way they're boring into his own, and Hank feels an urge to look away. The look on Connor's face is too honest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hank lifts one hand to Connor’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. Connor presses the side of his face into Hank’s palm, taking his free hand to rest on top of Hank’s. He gives him a weak smile. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The house is so quiet, and Hank swears his heartbeat is too loud. It feels like the world has stopped moving for a moment, and Hank can almost see what's going to happen before it does - That's how inevitable this kiss feels to him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He slowly gets out of his chair, then presses closer to Connor, just enough that his intent is clear. When he does, Connor reaches for him, spreading his knees to give Hank more room, to get him closer. Hank brings his other hand up to cup the back of Connor’s head. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Connor stares at him, his eyes deep in focus.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For how long has Hank fantasized of doing just this?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The kiss is soft, so soft that he’s not sure their lips actually meet. Connor breathes harshly, especially for someone who doesn’t need air, and his dark brown eyes pull Hank in, until they’re kissing again, this time with more vigour. Hank revels in the way Connor’s breath hitches when he pulls him closer, loves his quiet whimpers when he licks the inside of his mouth. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s still, it’s calm. It’s so fucking perfect. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hank silently dreads the day that he'll fuck this up. Because he <strong>will.</strong></em>
</p><p>
  <em> ---- </em>
</p><p>Dec 2nd</p><p> </p><p>Connor did manage to convince Hank into staying home today, putting a box of painkillers and a glass of water on the kitchen counter. </p><p>The ache in his joints does put a damper on his mood, especially after Connor reminded him of the trip that he hoped he would get out of. </p><p>Serious injury or not, he's not in the best shape to get down a mountain on skis. In a way, he's glad now that he got to stay home. After this ordeal, after seeing Connor's veiled disappointment last night, he has some things to think through. Like, how he's barely made any effort with Connor since they - sort of- got together.</p><p>They haven't talked about it much. They kissed one evening, then they continued doing so. When they got home from work, on walks with Sumo, in bed with the lights off. Connor doesn't push anything, having asked Hank to keep it down low while working, and Hank has been fine with that, still trying to wrap his head around this change.</p><p>But even though Connor wants to take things easy, Hank knows that he has underperformed in these few weeks. Even if this part of their relationship is new, their friendship isn't, and Hank doesn't want Connor to be treated so callously.</p><p>He really has been trying to get his head out of his ass, to be nice. He tells himself that he needs to be better, to be the partner that Connor deserves. The month of december makes all those efforts tougher, what with holiday expectations and colder weather that makes his joints ache.</p><p>It's difficult to get his shit together, to pretend like a month of dating this sweet, deadly, smoking hot person will automatically change his life.</p><p>"<em> You're not fucking anything up, in my opinion." </em></p><p>Connor's words reminds Hank again of what he needs to hammer into his skull. Connor could have anyone.</p><p>And he <em>chose</em> Hank. Hank is his person, whether Hank thinks it's a good idea or not.</p><p>He wants to make sure Connor knows how he feels, just as well as he himself does. That's why he spends almost a hundred bucks on a bouquet of flowers before picking Connor up from work. He's made sure to steer clear of roses, especially red ones, knowing how uncomfortable they make Connor. </p><p>He leaves the flowers in the living room, and then goes to get Connor, pretending like nothing is out of the ordinary. He’s feeling his hip again, and reminds himself to take another pill when they get home, so as to not let his mood drop.</p><p> </p><p>"Didn't think I'd forget, did you?" Hank says once they’re back inside. He brings out the flowers and hands them to Connor, whose eyes widen in surprise. He clears his throat, looking at Hank with a scrutinous look.</p><p>“What’s this for?” he asks. Hank snorts.</p><p>“Don’t pretend like you don’t know exactly what date it is, asshole.” He offers the flowers to Connor, who carefully holds them, reverently opening the paper around them. The colors are less fun than Hank would have liked, but they’re subtle, tasteful. Connor drops the paper to the floor and studies them. He looks back at Hank.</p><p>“I’ve never received flowers before. I… Don’t know what to say,” he says, sounding awfully confused.</p><p>“How about,” Hank says, coming in close and takes Connor’s puzzled face in his hands, “Happy one month, babe?”</p><p>The kiss is quick, interrupted by Connor’s giggle. </p><p>“We’re celebrating one month since we kissed for the first time?”</p><p>“I’d say one month of continuous kissing, is more like it.”</p><p>“Hank,” Connor giggles, trying to look stern, but not quite succeeding, as his lips are stretched in a grin, and Hank thinks that he made the right choice today. While Connor putters in the kitchen, turning all the cabinets inside out to find a proper vase, Hank feels the invasive thought return - the thought that tells him of how terrible he is, despite the efforts today. He pushes it down, for once focusing on just being in the moment. Connor's smile when he puts the flowers in water finally puts him at ease, and he knows that he's going to make the most of it this season.</p><p> </p><p>When they’re snuggled up in bed, Hank’s nose pressed against the nape of Connor’s neck, Hank wonders, once more, just how in the hell he got this lucky.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Something old, something new</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank and Connor dig through the garage for decorations, and Connor makes a discovery that has Hank blushing from head to toe.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So much can happen in a year.</p><p>Finally having enough peace of mind to try to heal from his guilt, Hank has been seeing a therapist. And he does feel like things are changing in him.</p><p>Though the bad days still come, his thoughts an ever-changing mess, his steps feel lighter, his moods lifted. He feels less numb these days, less like he just wants to quit life, now that he's learning how to cope with what happened to Cole.</p><p>The problem with dealing with your emotional trauma is the fucking tears that come uninvited, whenever Hank feels <em>anything</em>. </p><p>This time, the waterworks start when he finds an old santa outfit of Cole’s - he’d worn it for Christmas when he was five, and the realization that Hank is holding a relic from his son’s last christmas is enough to send him on his knees in the garage, ugly sobbing while pressing some cheap red fabric to his forehead. His chest contracts painfully, shrinking until he has to breathe in short strides.</p><p>He hopes, in vain, that the rumbling of the washing machine will cover up the noises he’s making, but alas. It takes one minute, and then Connor opens the door to the garage, knocking softly at it while calling Hank's name.</p><p>If he was able to control it, Hank would stop crying right here and now, clear his throat and tell Connor that he’s fine.</p><p>With his feelings all over the place, it’s just about impossible to explain shit.</p><p>The winter holidays truly are the worst because of all these memories that crawl out of the corner of his brain. The past affects his moods even worse than the death rates that always climb at this time of year.</p><p>He’s not so much mourning the fact that Cole will never have another christmas, or that Cole can’t come back or anything. He’s not even sure that it’s a death wish anymore, this feeling of complete hopelessness.</p><p>He just wants to hold his son again, and the fact remains that he can’t do that.</p><p>This feeling always sends him in a downward spiral, one that used to make him reach for his gun. Instead, he faces these feelings head-on, but it means that he’s constantly overwhelmed when these emotions come barreling down on him.</p><p>Hank tries to explain all these well formulated thoughts to Connor in a way that he might understand.</p><p>Unfortunately his words just turn into incoherent sobs.</p><p>Ever so gently, Connor pries the fabric from his hands, and Hank hears him open the trash can to dump the clothes in there. That says something about the situation, because Connor is constantly busting his balls about recycling everything.</p><p>Hank lets Connor hold him while he releases the last of the unexpected fits of tears. It feels good, and while he's not sure how to express that to Connor in words, he reaches for him to kiss the nape of his neck, breathing him in. Connor's insides whirr and hiss. It's a comforting sound, one he's fallen asleep listening to for weeks now.</p><p>“I think we should try to create new traditions,” Connor says once Hank has calmed down, stroking his back. “After all, last Christmas I barely had time to try any stuff.”</p><p>“I know, I wish we could have done more," Hank sniffs. "But I guess there was too much stuff going on. And I had no will to make it special, not even for you. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Hey, you did give me presents on Christmas day,” Connor reminds him, bumping his shoulder.</p><p>Yes, Hank did give him a present, a pair of socks with Sumo’s face printed on them. Connor loved those socks.</p><p>“And we did listen to the choir.”</p><p>“Yeah, that was nice.” The choir had been an honest joy last year, and a welcome respite from all the anger and fear clutching at Detroit in last december. Connor's LED had been blue for almost the entire time, only switching to yellow when Hank had rested a hand on his shoulder to point out a detail in the dome of the church they were sitting in. He hadn't listened to music like that in years, especially not in a church, and the beautiful acoustics and architecture were a balm on his overwhelmed self. It seemed to have made an impression on Connor as well.</p><p>"Yeah." Hank breathes a sigh, straightening up and wiping his eyes once more. "New traditions. That does sound nice. A ski trip is a good start, but I feel like we need to introduce you to some of the good stuff about being human. We can’t stop at Christmas light, we’ll need to get a tree, and--"</p><p>"I'm afraid I won't be able to ingest any gingerbread or anything," Connor says hesitantly. "I won't be much fun when it comes to any feasts."</p><p>"Eh, the homebaked never really tasted the way I wanted them anyway. It's the process of baking them that's important. And I know you've got a knack for baking"</p><p>"I see." Connor lights up. "In that case I'd really like to try baking them. With you."</p><p>Hank clears his throat.</p><p>"Hey, would you mind going through some of these boxes with me today? I'm sure there's a shit ton that we can throw out. I wonder if the christmas baubles survived the move to this house…" Hank trails off, searching for one of the boxes that say "Xmas tree crap". He decided against putting the word shit on anything in case Cole read it and told his mother. It makes him laugh now.</p><p>In the end, Hank ends up saving a lot of the stuff, and after a discussion he and Connor select the nicest ones to bring out when the 25th gets closer. They still need to get new lights for the outside, and there's the christmas tree, and presents, and--</p><p>"Are these…"</p><p>Hank lifts his head from one of the boxes when he hears Connor's inquisitive tone.</p><p>He's staring right at a pair of skimpy lace panties, the straps dangling from Connor’s finger. They're red, with a big bow and a small bell on the back, jingling mockingly at him. His face heats up, and the urge to fan his warm face is forced down. He remembers when he got those.</p><p>Hopefully Connor won't find the matching bralette anywhere in there.</p><p>"Slutty holiday themed costumes, Hank?" Connor asks, equal parts amused and intrigued. Hank can’t help but stare, his mouth dry at the sight of them in Connor's hand, mind blanking.</p><p>This thing going on with him and Connor -whatever they might call it - feels fragile and new. He knows some of the things that Connor likes in bed, but they haven't exactly discussed the matter of kinks and squicks. Connor does enjoy coming home with nice clothes, wearing them underneath his officewear as a surprise for when they get home. Looking at his face now, Hank wonders if Connor has ever thought about <em>Hank</em> in such delicate clothing. In this moment, he wishes that he could read what Connor is thinking, if his interest is purely out of curiosity, or something else.</p><p>"Yours or someone else's?"</p><p>"Uh…" is what Hank answers. That's all the  confirmation Connor needs, and the grin he sends Hank is devillish.</p><p>"I think I know what I wish for Santa to bring me."</p><p>Hank thinks that Connor will be the death of him.</p><p>“I’m sure there’s a nice matching elf outfit that I can order, too,” Connor says, matter-of-factly, like he hasn't just rocked Hank's world. “I hope that’s not an old tradition of yours.”</p><p>Hank barks a laugh, nervous and tense like he'll fucking snap.</p><p>“Hah! No, definitely not.”</p><p>“Good,” Connor says and pulls Hank into a quick kiss, just a press of their lips together. "I guess I need to go shopping," he murmurs against his skin, wiggling his eyebrows just a little. Hank's face burns, just the thought of what Connor might find sending him into a spiral of fantasies.</p><p>"This is not what I had in mind when we talked about new traditions."</p><p>"Do you object?" Connor asks, in a tone that makes it clear he expects no resistance from Hank.</p><p>"Hell no!" Hank laughs again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Lights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor gets to decorate the outside of the house in lights.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For once it’s a slow day at work, so slow that Connor has been spending the last couple of hours locating the best places to buy holiday decorations and get presents. He doubts that Hank will be up for a long walk down downtown Detroit this afternoon, what with his sore ankle and bruised hip, which is why he’s so taken aback when Hank sits down on his desk and tells him to wrap it up.</p><p>“Wrap what up?”</p><p>“Work,” Hank answers like it’s that obvious. “We should get going before all the parking spots are taken.”</p><p>“What?” Connor only says. He feels like he’s missing something as Hank stands up, not without wincing, and wiggles his car keys in his hand. “Where are you going?”</p><p>“<em> We,” </em> Hank corrects him, “Are going to go get some Christmas lights to hang outside.” He smirks at Connor’s obvious confusion. “I mean, we <em> could </em> dig up my old box with lights, but I’ll bet you most of them are busted, and it’ll take all your CPU to untangle them.”</p><p>“It’s not a CPU-” Connor begins, then shuts his mouth as he watches Hank’s grin spread. “I mean, sure, I’d love to. If you feel that you’re up for it,” He adds with a nod to Hank’s leg. Hank waves him off,</p><p>“Eh, I once walked around with a bullet in my thigh. Think I can handle a sprain.” Connor has downloaded copious amounts of data regarding bullet wounds, and he is definitely sure that Hank is either joking or exaggerating, but he is glad that Hank is less sullen today. He still has a limp, subtle enough that no one would think of it unless they knew he hurt himself.</p><p>"Also, I just took a pill. I'll be all right."</p><p>"Well then. Let's get going!" Connor smiles.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Now wait a minute,” Hank says after Connor has loaded their cart with the fourth pack of fairy lights. “I think we might cause an outage if we add any more. Besides,” he picks up two of them, “These are all different. You’re aware of that, yeah?”</p><p>Connor frowns.</p><p>“I can’t decide on which to pick. This is more classic,” he points at the red and green lights that Hank is holding, “But these regular yellow look more clean and put together. But it’s so <em>boring</em>.”</p><p>“Well, we could put up both of them,” Hank says,  “Though I strongly vote against including the blue and the blinking ones. Trust me on that one,” he says when Connor’s about to protest, “You’ll burn out your processors after one hour of these blinking headaches.”</p><p>Connor tilts his head to the side, LED spinning yellow for a few seconds, then he nods. </p><p>“All right.”</p><p>"Maybe we could look for a tree to keep outside as well, get some more holiday spirit crammed into our tiny home."</p><p>Connor smiles. "We're going to out-holiday the entire block, I think."</p><p>"Just the way it should be," Hank says with a nod. Not that he has ever been that kind of guy to show off his lawn with decorations, not even when Cole was alive. He got the tree, and the socks, and if Cole nagged on him they got a few santas up, but that was usually it.</p><p>He can't say he wishes to have done differently in the past, knowing Cole loved Christmas either way, but one look at Connor's grin when they add another box of lights is all it takes for him to want lights in every nook and cranny of their home.</p><p>As they get closer to the check out, Hank catches Connor glancing at the shelves stocked with hideous lawn and balcony decorations. A garden gnome looking like an evil little Santa, two reindeers with red noses lit up in white and red light bulbs, one of those terrifying Santa figures that people put on their balcony fence to make it look like he’s climbing into their homes.</p><p>He finds most of the stuff there fucking ugly, but when he catches Connor’s eye and he lets out a surprised robot chirp for having been caught staring, Hank makes a beeline for the stuff.</p><p>“Hank,” Connor says, begging him to drop it, but Hank has to make sure Connor knows that he’s serious about making this December better than last year. “Hank, we don’t have to.”</p><p>“No, we gotta,” Hank simply says. “Come on, I saw you staring. Which one is it, then?”</p><p>Connor is quiet for a moment, his brows creasing, then his LED goes back to his calm blue. </p><p>“I um. Liked the one with the reindeer,” he says, and he’s so damn cute that Hank wants to smush his cheeks between his hands and kiss him stupid. Instead, he nods and picks up the box with the ugly things. The way Connor’s eyes brighten as they walk towards the cashier is worth all the money they just spent on fucking lights.</p><p>---</p><p>It takes quite some time to get the lights up, and Connor has to do most of the work due to Hank’s injury. He’s all too happy to stand up there on the ladder, moving it every other minute to put up more of the lights. Hank instructs him from the ground, sitting on the hood of his car with woolen mittens and a hot cup of coffee. The spot where he fell last night is still there, a big ugly patch in the middle of the pretty white snow. </p><p>While Connor crawls up on the roof to get the top of the house covered in the light as well, Hank thinks back on the year of this hectic yet fulfilling time in his life. His therapist suggested that he might have slightly replaced his drinking habit by work, but he doesn’t think that’s it. Honestly, this is the way he used to feel about work - so excited to be making a difference in other people’s lives that he happily could work non-stop for an entire week.</p><p>Yes, this might not be a sustainable way of living life, but right now he’s feeling more alive and with more purpose than he’s felt since Cole was alive.</p><p>That has a lot to do with Connor. He knows it does, and that thought still scares him. Even though his feelings towards Connor are reciprocated, while they have been for quite a while, there’s something exciting in this unspoken agreement they have. They haven’t said the words yet, haven't talked it out more than, "I like you," and "Are we doing this?", and it feels way too early to say them now, but Hank knows.</p><p>He knows.</p><p>“Done!” Connor calls from the other side of the house, and Hank wakes from his thoughts when Connor jumps to the ground, a low thud coming from the backyard. “Now there’s only the backyard left!”</p><p>Hank clears his throat, gets back up from his seat, hissing at the sharp twist in his ankle. “Don’t forget the deer!”</p><p>Connor grimaces, looking embarrassed. “I wasn’t serious when we were looking at them back at the store.” It makes Hank snort out loud. </p><p>“Yeah, sure you weren’t. Why don’t you get started on the fence, and I’ll dig the venison up, huh?”</p><p>Connor fights a smile, and Hank winks at him in turn.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost nine pm by the time they bring Sumo out to watch the lights turn on. Connor has, of course, connected to the light switch, and they count down until he lights them up.</p><p>Hank can’t help but smile at the way it lights up the house, not to mention the beautiful colors dancing across Connor’s face. He looks radiant, grinning from ear to ear, a look of pure joy.</p><p>Their shoulders are touching through the fabrics of their jackets. Hank reaches his arm out, first aiming to take Connor’s hand, but then opting to throw it around his shoulders, pulling him closer as they watch their home blinding them from the force of the lights. It looks good, much better than he expected. Even the deer look like they belong there.</p><p>Connor's face doesn't blush from the cold, because of course it doesn't, but Hank can tell a faint tint of blue beneath the skin of his nose and cheeks. It might be highlighted by Connor's LED and the lights coming from the house. It doesn't matter, because Connor looks so happy, so full of life here and now.</p><p>
  <em>And Hank knows.</em>
</p><p>
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  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Elf on the shelf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor has watched Elf too many times now.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>My plan for this calendar was to keep the chapters under 1K, but it's been difficult to keep the size of the chapters even. This chapter is shorter than the others, but tomorrow there Will be much more action!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hank wakes up the next morning, early for fucking once. Sumo is wagging his tail excitedly by the foot of the bed, waiting to be let out.</p><p>Stretching and cracking his neck, he turns to pat Connor on his head, his LED shining. He probably went to bed when Hank was already asleep, curling up against his back and kissing his cheek like usually does. It’s not an anomaly - Connor just doesn’t need as much rest as Hank, and he enjoys spending time with Sumo in his lap at night, stroking his fur and reading or some shit.</p><p>That is not what Connor has been up to tonight, though. Hank finds this out the hard way, as he gets up to piss and finds a huge fucking Christmas elf on the bathroom shelf, staring at him.</p><p>It’s got long, woollen legs dangling off the edge, its red hat pulled over the eyes. Even though there’s not much of a face on the elf besides a big, round nose, Hank can’t shake the feeling that it’s watching him relieve himself, and it makes it difficult to do so. </p><p>When he washes his hands, he notices stickers of the Christmas variations on the mirror. Santas with big bellies, cartoon reindeer saying "Oh deer!" And so on.</p><p>For a long while, he has made a habit of putting up post-its on there, in a sort of sarcastic way that has become an inside joke with himself.</p><p>Most of them have been replaced since Connor moved in, and after they sort of became an item he has seen a couple of the new post-its decorated in hearts. Once the stickiness on the back wears off, he ususally picks them off the mirror and puts them in his drawer, because yes, he’s a grumpy old fuck, but damn it to hell if he doesn’t find Connor’s notes “I’m proud of you”, “You’re my 10/10” and such to be absolutely adorable.</p><p>He’s not sure he finds the pictures of Santa’s helpers and creepy snowmen adorable.</p><p>One glance downwards makes him see the red and green carpet on the bathroom floor. He can't say that he has any memory of that particular one.</p><p>Not really sure what he expects when he exits the bathroom to go to the kitchen and put the kettle on, he’s met with what he can only assume are Connor’s handmade paper garlands, strung across the windows.</p><p>He’s about to shout for Connor to get in here, ask him if the Northpole came into this house last night and fucking exploded or what, but he takes a closer look at the paper and see the minute details on the snowflakes. They're meticulously cut and folded, looking almost storebought.</p><p>Shit, what can he say, he’s impressed.</p><p> </p><p>Connor comes out of the bedroom by the time that Hank has finished his coffee and breakfast, consisting of some god awful oatmeal. When he sees Hank in the kitchen, he immediately starts fidgeting with his hands behind his back, his LED spinning yellow, yellow.</p><p>Hank usually doesn’t like changes when he’s not prepared for them - surprises mean that he has no control of what is going on. He and Connor also decided the other night that they would decorate together.</p><p>It is hard to be irritated though, when Connor looks like a dog that has been caught eating its owner’s shoe.</p><p>“Having trouble sleeping last night?” Hank says, raising one eyebrow at him. Connor plops down on the chair next to him, leaning his head against Hank’s shoulder, a long, deep exhale tickling the skin on his arm.</p><p>“I got stuck on the news channel,” he murmurs, LED still yellow.</p><p>Hank knows what that means, knows that most of the news in these times aren’t exactly the good kind. Threats of war, global warming, androids and humans found dead. He finds it too depressing to keep updated, though he has to be in the know when it comes to android laws and such- he'd be both a terrible detective and friend if he wasn't. Nowadays, he has to peel Connor away from the screens, telling him that there's such things as <em>too updated.</em></p><p>“They’d found an android ripped apart in his own backyard last night. He’d just put up his christmas decorations, and…”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t need to, and Hank puts down his coffee mug to wrap him in a tight hug. His LED is red.</p><p>“Did the decorations help you?” he asks, pressing a kiss to Connor’s forehead.</p><p>“A little. But I realized that beside tree decorations, we’re pretty short on stuff. The ones we found in the garage were barely enough for the bathroom."</p><p>Hank snorts. “Yeah, we need to stock up before the 25th, huh. Though we could move a couple of elves out of there.” He looks around, back at the decorations in the kitchen. He raises his eyebrows at Connor, who casts down his eyes.</p><p>“I might have watched Elf after I finally got off the news,” Connor admits, and it makes Hank laugh. “A couple of times.”</p><p>“Just a couple?” Hank asks, shaking his head in amusement. He remembers clearly that film, had a girlfriend at uni who loved it. “Got inspired by his decorating skills?”</p><p>Connor buries his face in the crook of Hank’s neck.</p><p>“Shut up,” he says, voice muffled by Hank’s shirt.</p><p>“Well, the bathroom looks nice. Except that gnome, you need to put it somewhere else. I almost couldn’t take a piss while that thing stared at me.”</p><p>“I…” Connor pauses, looks up at Hank. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Also, you know,” Hank continues, “you’ve made it very nice, and I like it, but the nice thing about these holiday-activities is that we should do them together.”</p><p>Connor looks sheepish. “I know.”</p><p>“So why don’t we make a day of it, once we’re back from our vacation, huh?”</p><p>Connor’s face lights up. “You want to put up more stuff?”</p><p>Hank looks at him as if he’s insane for asking such a thing. “Honey, you can’t even imagine what it’s gonna look like, once we’re done with it.”</p><p>“Right. I did find some nice moss green towels and a few tablecloths I’d like to look at. We should also plan when we’re going to make the gingerbread.”</p><p>The anxious air is leaving Connor as he rambles on about things that they need to cram in, his shoulders relaxing in increments, and his LED finally goes back to his calm blue. He sits next to Hank while he finishes breakfast, then begins to nag him about being too slow, they’re gonna be late again, and he wants to get to the briefing and find the good seats.</p><p>As they go out the door and he goes to the car, he finds himself again thinking the same thing that he always does these days.</p><p>
  <em>God help me, but I love him so much.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The rink</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank takes Connor ice skating in downtown Detroit.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hank rubs his gloved hands together, feeling chilled to the bone as he and Connor venture down to the park in downtown Detroit. The giant Christmas tree can be seen from far away, which Connor noted as they turned to the parking lot a bit away from Campus Martius.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cold?” Connor asks, reaching his hand out to warm him up. He takes one of Hank’s hands and stuffs it into his own jacket pocket. The warmth radiating from him is enough to warm Hank up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh… Much better,” Hank sighs. Connor can feel his pulse through the fabric of the glove, and he times it as they get closer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s an annual event at this place, where there’s an ice skating rink and lodges that offer warm drinks and food. Connor’s focuses upon a row of small pop-up shops along the park, and he makes sure to remind Hank that they have to go through each and every one of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank has also promised to take Connor ice skating. It’s another activity that he’s never tried before, and he can’t wait to get the skates on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they’ve rented a pair each, they sit down next to the rink to put the skates on. Connor chides Hank for not wearing a helmet, to which Hank snorts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to do Hockey in high school, think I’ll be all right.” With that, he pulls his hat down over his ears and corrects the one on Connor’s head. “I’d be more worried about your pretty head.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor tsks and begins to lace the skates on his feet. Hank insists that he help him tighten them correctly, and Connor lets him, even though Hank is not really doing it right, according to Connor’s research. </span>
  <span>He feels giddy about this, having watched too many hours of winter sports last winter and being absolutely fascinated by the ice skaters on screen. Hank has promised to take him to a show someday, but this will have to do until then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank steps out on the ice, surprisingly graceful. He makes a few turns, feeling the rental skates out. When he does a fast but short spin on the spot, Connor raises his eyebrows. Blushing, Hank scratches his neck over his scarf. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? So I’ve picked up some shit from the skaters that we shared ice with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor grins, and he’s about to step off the rink and glide out to where Hank is standing, and tell him that he should teach Connor some tricks --</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes one step on the ice, and in the next moment, he’s staring up at the dark sky, getting the falling snow in his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick analysis of his system tells him that he just fell. On the ice. He hears Hank guffawing behind him, and in his peripheral vision, he sees the man bent double over himself, clutching his midsection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Connor,” Hank wheezes, coming up beside him and reaching out a hand for him. Connor takes it, feeling heat running to his face - he identifies the sensation as </span>
  <em>
    <span>embarrassment. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Hey, it’s your first time, I’m sorry, should have held your hands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor bristles at that. He takes another step towards Hank,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can hold my own, actually. I just hadn’t calibrated correctly, the change in friction, the pressure of the--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His explanation runs short, as he feels his feet give way again, and he flails his arms uselessly, before Hank catches him on a fall forward. Connor hears Hank’s heartbeat through his jacket, feels his lungs constricting as he starts giggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I’d brought a fucking camera for this,” Hank laughs, pulling Connor up and holding his elbows. Connor’s legs still wobble, but Hank’s solid form helps him stabilize enough to not fall again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not funny,” Connor says with a pout.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, ‘s a little funny,” Hank answers. When Connor continues to scowl at him, he laughs again and ruffles his head. “All right, maybe we should start slow. Very slow,” he adds with a wink, and Connor simultaneously wants to shove him off and pull him into a tight hug. Smug bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They make their way in a circle around the ice, following the flow of other people skating. Connor either crawls along the rink, or glides slowly along with Hank pulling him forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to be so far back with your ass, Con,” Hank calls when Connor nearly falls again. “Try to keep your feet upright,” he tries when he sees Connor’s skates folding in with his knees. Hank at least has enough decency to stop laughing at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, you’re starting to learn,” he says encouragingly when Connor manages to skate a few feet forward without falling over. He’s still shaking however.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe my body isn’t obeying me right now,” Connor mutters, horrified at the prospect of bumping into their colleagues. Hank waves dismissively at that comment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, welcome to the human experience. It took me months to get where you are right now. Honestly, I’d be pretty pissed if you just stepped on the ice as a fucking pro.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor feels a little better after that, and he starts enjoying himself a little, even as he falls over a few more times when Hank lets him go. Hank always comes back, lifting him up on his feet, dusting his back and legs off from snow and ice, and giving him a quick peck on his nose. His cheeks are red, flushing from the cold, and so is his nose. Connor thinks it’s very cute, even though he can’t quite bring himself to say as much at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They keep skating for a few more rounds, Hank skating backwards and guiding Connor, holding a firm grip of his hands. Connor would like to see Hank skate the way he used to in his younger days. He’s going to have to search Hank’s internet history and finds pictures of him in hockey gear, he thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hank’s hip is starting to act up, they get off the ice and switch to their boots, stopping in between to steal some kisses. The public display of affection is pretty new, and it makes Connor’s thirium pump stutter in his body. Hank’s beard has ice in it now, and Connor brushes it off, pulling him in for a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good teacher, Mr Anderson,” Connor murmurs. Hank’s smile softens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a good student, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The term of endearment is a new one, and Hank might have realized that as well, because he freezes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Connor senses his pulse climbing, and isn’t that a lovely discovery?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kisses him again, slowly, softly, and lets his artificial breath ghost over Hank’s lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a lot more to see at this place, and they both venture down to the lodges to warm up. Hank warms his hands by one of the heaters while Connor orders a hot cup of chai latte for him. Hank accepts it gratefully, allowing for a few moments to just take small sips and let the fire warm his body. Connor stands close, hoping his own body heat might help as well. Or maybe he just needs to be close to Hank, right now. There is a strong feeling inside of him right now, like there are just too many good things in his life, and that he needs an outlet for the reactions that his body is feeling.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Happiness. Love. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s intoxicating, what he’s feeling right now. Hank smiles at him, hugs him closer and Connor thinks he could stay here forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Hank isn’t quite as cold, they go through the stalls. Most of the people in the shops are human, but Hank spots a few with android hosts. They sell handmade clothes fit for androids, with snug pockets made for carrying various components and tools, much like humans have pockets for phones and wallets. Hank sees an ugly sweater with a snowman on it, complete with blinking lights and some stupid pun written in capital letters, and he buys one in Connor’s size. Connor absolutely loves it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They buy some roasted almonds, a bag of tea that smells of cardamom and cinnamon, and Hank even splurges on some fancy cheese and marmalade. Connor tries an almond, just nibbling on it and cataloging the various chemical components, the taste of the sugar content, to map out what kind of holiday sweets Hank is into.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They slowly make their way down the street, stopping for every stall, Connor clutching Hank’s arm. Snow is softly falling over them. Hank’s breath comes out in a fog, and Connor imagines catching it with his own breath, inhaling some parts of Hank. He doesn’t share these thoughts with Hank though, as he has a sneaking suspicion it might be considered a little too weird.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They end up by the christmas tree, lit up in various colorful lights. It’s enormous, Connor thinks, and he gets stuck staring up at it for a while. It’s almost hypnotizing, following the string of lights from the bottom of the tree, up to the top. He records this moment and puts it in his own memory file, already filled with other moments of this evening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he glances back at Hank, he finds the man staring at him. At once feeling self conscious, Connor asks,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank gives him a smile so soft, so sweet that Connor wonders if Hank’s feelings for him might be as deep, as serious as Connor’s own. The lights are reflected in Hank’s face, in his eyes, and Connor is gripped by the fear of never getting to repeat this evening again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so handsome, you know that, right?” Hank murmurs, his voice breaking a little at the end. He leans close. Connor’s eyes flutter closed when Hank closes the small distance between them and kisses him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the handsome one,” Connor whispers against his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhere nearby, there’s a choir singing some old, christian holiday songs, their voices harmonizing beautifully. People are chatting, laughing around them, a perfect  white noise mixed with the songs. Hank hums along to some of them, and Connor listens, looking up the lyrics and the notes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lights are gleaming, the food and drinks smell warm and spicy. And Connor is wrapped in Hank’s coat, his arms wound tight around the thick sweater that smells, and feels, like Hank.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cards and kisses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor and Hank take pictures for a Christmas card.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Hank assumed, when he decided to actually make something special of this year's Christmas that the preparations would start at the twentieth or something. Yet he learned quickly that Connor would take the activities all month. The paper garlands and pre-placed elves are a testiment to that. The planning has become the only thing Connor talks about at work in the between-hours, and Hank would be lying if he said that he doesn't find it sweet.</p><p>Hank knows Connor likes to do things properly, with maximum attendance, so he shouldn't be surprised that Connor would actually go through with the plan of creating new traditions.</p><p> This very afternoon as Hank prepares dinner, Connor comes home, an adorable flushed face that Hank is sure is only there because Connor knows how cute he thinks it is. His eyes find the red bow in Connor's hand, in a velvety fabric. He raises an eyebrow at him.</p><p>"Um, honey. Thanks, but that's not exactly my style, you know."</p><p>Connor gives him a look like he's stupid.</p><p>"It's for Sumo."</p><p>"For Sumo."</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>Connor's eyes are bright, and he is practically vibrating as he approaches the old dog with the bowtie.</p><p>"Yeah, good luck putting it on him and making it stay," Hank pipes up as Sumo stares at Connor sceptically. </p><p>Of course Connor has no trouble getting Sumo to put it on.</p><p>"It's only for the Christmas card," he explains.</p><p>"The what now?"</p><p>"I told you about it last night," Connor says, a pout on his face. Then his LED blinks yellow. "Perhaps you had fallen asleep."</p><p>"And who are we gonna send these to?" Hank asks, feeling that warmth of affection for Connor bloom in his chest when he starts listing people on his hands.</p><p>"Well there's Fowler, obviously. Markus, and Josh and the others. Ben, Chris, Tina--"</p><p>"All right, all right," Hank chuckles.</p><p> </p><p>His mirth dies soon enough once they start taking the pictures.</p><p>The card will look hideous. Hank is sitting, uncomfortable as ever, in a reindeer sweater, leaning slightly forward in his chair to hide his double chins, instead highlighting his gut. Connor sits on the floor, hugging Sumo who pants loudly, some drool hanging from his jowls. It feels like the bright red bowtie is taking over most of the picture. They both look very sweet, Hank thinks, but it feels awkward. He suggests they move the lamps closer to their faces, to avoid the pictures being too dark.</p><p> Connor smooths out the folds of his shirt, trying to make it look more proper.</p><p>Hank tries to be nice about it, even as Connor gets up and rearranges them for the tenth time.</p><p>"Who are we really sending these to that makes the fucking composition so important?" He eventually asks.</p><p>Connor frowns, stopping in his tracks as he adjusts Hank's hair again.</p><p>"Markus said he'd send one, and well. He's going to have all of Jericho in on it."</p><p>Hank barks a laugh, he can't help it.</p><p>"You're scared he's gonna one-up you?" Markus has resources, and a huge following. Even if he'll only send Christmas cards of his closest allies, they're still quite a bunch. The thought that Connor wants to show off his family, consisting of an old St Bernhard and a grumpy old fart… It's funny. Connor doesn't seem to think so.</p><p>"No!" he says with force. "No, I just want it to look good."</p><p>"Uh-huh," Hank grunts, not at all convinced. It becomes easier to relax after that, seeing another human layer in Connor that is so relatable.</p><p> </p><p>Hank humors him for another twenty minutes, and when they review the finished product, he grins. It's a very cute picture. Not Hank, though. No, he looks like his usual old self. And the quality of the photo isn't the best, but there's not much to do about that.</p><p>But Connor is glowing next to Sumo, looking like a fucking model, and still so god damn cute.</p><p>"I don't like it," Connor frowns and goes through THE other pictures. "I mean, they're nice, but they look so…"</p><p>"Shitty?"</p><p>Connor gives him an exasperated look. "Homemade."</p><p>"It might be due to the terrible lighting in this house," Hank muses. "But you know, I think these will look lovely on the fridge, or on the bookshelf?"</p><p>Connor sighs. "The point was to send christmas cards. </p><p>"I know. These look good, Con. We can take some with a better background next time, yeah? With more preparations and shit."</p><p>"But what about these?" Connor looks back at the photos. They're really unflattering to Hank's complexion, but Connor is so cute that Hank might just not give a fuck about the way he looks himself.</p><p>"Hey, can we try something?" he asks before Connor puts the camera away. His LED blinks yellow to blue. Hank delves into the garage and emerges with a santa hat and a reindeer headpiece.</p><p>"Knew I had them around somewhere. Here, try 'em on!" He tosses the antlers to Connor, who grabs them midair. "Come on, we can have some fun with it."</p><p>Before long, they have taken photos in ten different poses, each pose getting progressively more ridiculous. Hank makes bunny ears behind Sumo, and Connor tries to put the antlers on the poor dog, who finally has enough and goes to lie down on his dog bed, conveniently placed behind where they're sitting. Sumo’s displeased form is a blur behind them, becoming a comical asset to the series of photos they’ve taken.</p><p>Before they put the camera away, Connor sets the self-timer one last time, and Hank pulls him back to sit on his lap. Connor yelps, but his expression softens and he sinks into Hank's lap, making sure to avoid the side that hurts. After the first flash from the camera sounds, Hank pulls Connor in for a soft kiss. </p><p>They do kiss, but never in public if there's a risk of someone recognizing them. It still feels like a touchy subject, the concept of human and android relationships, and neither of them want to fuck up the progress they've accomplished this year. They have only told Jeffrey about them sort of dating, mostly to not get into trouble with him later, but even though Hank doesn’t want to hide his and Connor’s relationship, he understands why Connor has doubts.</p><p>Right now, he wishes he could send these kissing photos to everyone he knows.</p><p>Connor hums, his warm breath sweet against Hank's lips, and as if he knows what Hank is thinking about, he murmurs, </p><p>"We can't send any of these to people," when the last flash sounds. “Markus would be scandalized. </p><p>"Hm, no these ones are for us,” Hank smiles, kissing Connor’s hand and seeing the next flash of the camera. He thinks about printing these at the office, not just the ones with Sumo, wondering if he will ever put any pictures of Connor up at his desk.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Julmust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor wonders how much longer he can keep his and Hank's relationship a secret.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Today has been particularly tough on Hank as they wrapped a case that has been going on for some time- an old house was found to have twenty child models stored, their synthskin breaking and overlapping all over. They were helping the younger detectives sort through the last bit of legalities, meaning that they also had to study up on the case. Hank tried to be professional about it, but Connor  picked up his distress anyway, knowing he's been doing okay for a while now but that some things can still shake him.</p><p>Though Connor would love nothing more than to come home, take Sumo on a walk and get some food for Hank, he thinks that Hank would feel better to be anywhere but home right now. After some prodding of what he’d like to do, Hank takes Connor to an obscure european store, a small place with random assortments of food and knick knacks.</p><p>Apparently they're after something in particular - Connor follows as Hank makes a beeline for the counters with drinks. Hank lets out a small noise of victory, as he picks up a rack of glass bottles clinking together.</p><p>"We drove all the way for this?" Connor asks, scanning the label of one of the bottles. "<em>Julmust</em>" it says, a picture of a Christmas elf with a red hat standing outside of a red house. Hank, redundantly, tells Connor that it's "some Swedish shit", and his pronunciation is completely off. </p><p>"This is some good fucking shit," Hank grins, wiggling the bottles in his arms. </p><p>"There's so much sugar in this," Connor complains when he reads the list of ingredients. "You really shouldn't be drinking this."</p><p>"C'mon sweetheart, lemme live a little. Ah, can't wait to pop one of these open."</p><p>"Where have you picked up this tradition?"</p><p>"Eh. " Hank flops his hand dismissively. "Used to date this guy in college - Mom was from Sweden. He made me try these babies during that winter we dated, along with some weird saffron buns with raisins and shit in them - disgusting. But these are <em>gold</em>.”</p><p>On their way back to the car, they pass a store that makes Connor’s senses overwhelmed in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant, though it comes as a shock. </p><p>“Fuck no,” Hank says when Connor looks back. “I'm getting a headache just smelling that place.”</p><p>It takes little more than a sad face from Connor for Hank to change his mind.</p><p>It’s a nice store, filled with hygiene products that are marketed as vegan and eco friendly. Hank picks up some of the soap bars, placed in the middle of the store like wheels of cheese. Connor gets stuck on a shelf where a sign says “<em>NEW</em>!”</p><p>The store has begun to create products for androids, and when Connor reads the labels, he finds that they have been keen on finding products that actually affect them in similar ways as the soaps and the body creams affect humans.</p><p>While Hank, despite his vocal protests, starts sniffing the shower gels and checking the prices of some of the bath bombs, Connor finds himself eager to try some of the things. A saleswoman comes up and begins her pitch, then upon seeing who she’s talking to, becomes flustered and sticks in a few awed comments on how Connor’s work has changed her life. Her LED is clear and visible on her temple. </p><p>Connor would lie if he said that he isn't just a little flattered by the attention - it feels good to know he's done some good amongst all the horrible things he enabled last year.</p><p>She shows Connor some of the products, letting him test them. </p><p>In the end, they leave the store with far more stuff than either had intended, Connor excited to try some of the stuff in their bag.</p><p>----</p><p>
  <em>The gangs coming over 2morrrow 4 gingerbread bonanza, wanna go?</em>
</p><p>Another text buzzes on Hank's phone, and Connor picks it up out of his pocket, reading the message. </p><p>"Who is it?" Hank grumbles, his eyes tired, hands gripping the wheel a little too tight as they drive home- the nice distractions in town are sadly forgotten for now, it seems.</p><p>"Chris just invited you to his place tomorrow. They're making gingerbread houses."</p><p>He has somewhat of a difficult time picturing Hank and Chris with sugar paste sticking to their fingers, bending over a small gingerbread cottage. Hank hums nonchalantly, but there's the beginning of a spark in his eye. </p><p>"Hm, didn't know they still did that. We used to be there, too, before Cole died."</p><p>Connor wonders if Hank is feeling left out, but he scans his heart rate and cortisol levels, and… No.</p><p>"Do you want to go?" Connor asks. He does want to encourage Hank to have a social life. "You can just drop me off at home, I'll go out with Sumo."</p><p>Hank throws a quick glance at him, before focusing again on the road.</p><p>"What the hell're you talking about? You're not coming?"</p><p>"Why would I come? They're your friends."</p><p>Connor tries to understand. His social integration protocols inform him that he would be welcome to join them, but there's still some nervous energy thrumming inside his body. He would feel like a trespasser, especially since Chris invited Hank, not Connor, and because the two of them haven't come out as a couple - if that's what they are.</p><p>Again, Connor's protocols are in stark contrast to his own feelings. </p><p>He wants to be official. He wants people to look at Hank and know that he belongs to Connor. But he won't pressure Hank with that, after all he has been put through.</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous, Connor," Hank rolls his eyes, scoffing. "If you're not going, I'm not either."</p><p>"But you haven't--"</p><p>"Stop it," Hank says gruffly. "You can't expect me to just fuck off and let you sit at home alone."</p><p>"I can be alone," Connor says.</p><p>"While I do Christmas shit? Come on. You're coming with me, the boys know we're a package deal."</p><p>Connor is quiet. He knows why he hesitates to talk about it, and he can't handle Hank's reaction.</p><p>"Connor? What's going on in there?" Hank asks softly, gently patting Connor's knee. "You're overthinking this, Honey."</p><p>Connor knows His LED is red. It pulses in the reflection of the passenger seat window. Hank squeezes again.</p><p>"Hey?"</p><p>Connor opens his mouth.</p><p>"What if you call me Honey by accident?" He asks. "Or I would hold your hand in there. I know we're keeping this thing private, and I think it's good while we're at work, but…" he trails off again.</p><p>Saline tears burn in his eyes. He blinks them away, letting them discreetly sink back into his skin.</p><p>They're almost home, yet Hank parks the car on the side road. He lets the light stay on, and turns gingerly towards Connor, who looks into the passenger window. He feels Hank's warm hand on his chin, allowing him to twist his head to face him.</p><p>Hank's eyes are serious.</p><p>"Do you really… I thought you didn’t want them to know?"</p><p>"I know, and I think I still don't want it. But it just.. makes me sad."</p><p>Hank is quiet for a moment, leaning back and observing him. He squints, the way he does when he turns his detective instincts on Connor.</p><p>Connor squirms under his gaze.</p><p>"Connor… Do you want me to call you Honey in front of our friends?"</p><p>Connor bites the inside of his cheek - a terrible human habit that he unfortunately has picked up.</p><p>"I dont- I don’t know." His thirium pump beats uncomfortably hard.</p><p>He feels stupid, and he is about to steer the conversation into something else, hoping to convince Hank that he stay home. But Hank, bless him, smiles at him and pulls him closer. His hands are so big that they almost envelop all of Connor's head. Instantly he feels better, safe.</p><p>“We don’t have to hide in there. If we end up being too obvious, I’m fine with that. And if you find that you don’t want to, that’s totally cool with me. How’s that sound?”</p><p>Connor answers by closing the distance with a kiss. He can feel Hank still smiling, and that sensation is glorious. He knows nothing better than making him smile.</p><p>Hank gives his nose a peck, and reaches for his phone. Connor observes while he sends another text to Chris. When he sees what Hank's writing, he almost stops him.</p><p>
  <em>Hey, just checking, but Connor's invited too, right?</em>
</p><p>If Connor didn't trust Hank so implicitly, he would have told him to stop, but Hank only winks at him and shows him the screen when Chris answers, barely a minute later.</p><p>
  <em>Uh yeah? I thought I didn't even have to point that out. Hi Connor :)</em>
</p><p>"Fucking comedian, " Hank mutters, but then Connor grabs him again and presses him against the window. </p><p>They end up making out in the car for much longer than Connor has planned, and he knows Sumo will be antsy by the time they get home, but when they break apart and Connor can trace parts of himself glistening at Hank's bottom lip, he knows it's worth getting late for. </p><p>Once Sumo has been fed and walked, they decide for a shower before crashing into bed - Hank is still exhausted, and Connor wants to be close to him, as close as he can get. He doesn’t need to wash himself, but ever since he was granted the privilege of seeing Hank like this he feels that he must take every chance he gets to experience his body in these moments.</p><p>Hank lets him scrub him from top to bottom with the loofah, a new one that Connor picked up from the store, a red one with the shape of a bullfinch tied to the handle. It doesn’t take long before Hank sighs into Connor’s touch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. One of the shower soaps that Hank bought for himself is bright pink, smelling of cotton  candy.the one that he lathers Hank in is burgundy, and it smells musty, warm, like what Connor imagines a hot cup of tea feels like to a human. Hank's muscles relax even further. Connor feels a sudden urge to just climb inside of him, be enveloped in Hank's warmth. That thought scares him a little. He drops down to his knees to scrub his legs and feet.</p><p>“Mmm,” Hank murmurs. “Makes me think of the mulled wine they used to have at the market where my grandma lived.”</p><p>“Is it good? Mulled wine in a shower soap?” Connor asks, scrubbing circles over his thighs. He leaves soft trails of kisses down Hank’s back. Thoughts of their conversation in the car come back again, and it’s like his body is about to explode from how much he adores this man - this gruffy, big, kind, silly, warm, romantic man. Hank hums.</p><p>“Yeah. ‘S very good. I miss it. Hey,” he says, grabbing Connor’s hand and pulling him up to his feet. If Connor were human, his knees would ache, but he barely feels a thing as he stands up and enjoys Hank’s kisses.</p><p>They feel special, tonight, like they’ve made another step in the right direction.</p><p>“Smells like Christmas in here,” Hank murmurs with a smile, taking the loufa out of Connor’s hands and makes a gesture for him to turn around. Connor does as he’s told, and when Hank’s hands travel over his shoulders and back, slicked in the fancy shower cream, it almost becomes too much. He grabs for the bathroom wall, the white of his chassis peeking through.</p><p>“You’re so fucking beautiful, Sweetheart,” Hank whispers into the white plastic on Connor’s neck, and Connor is absolutely certain of what he has been debating the last few months, whether his feelings towards Hank could be real.</p><p>They most definitely are.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Gingerbread mansion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank and Connor are invited to gingerbread bonanza at Chris' house.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading and for leaving kudos and comments! I hope you feel the holiday spirit, if just a little, in these trying times.<br/>Take care, and be safe!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You made it!"  Chris exclaims by way of greeting when Hank and Connor arrive at his house, letting them in with one armed hugs. His son, Damian, is holding on to him on his other arm. Hank waves at the kid, who looks awfully shy, and Connor doesn't know what else to do, so he mimics Hank's gesture. "The others are here already. We're almost done with the base!"</p><p>“Ah, Jess is still at it, I see?” Hank says, shrugging off his coat.</p><p>“Always,” Chris says with a fond smile, even as he sighs. He takes their coats and hangs them up, ushering them to where the others are.</p><p>Connor looks around the kitchen when they step inside. It’s homey, warm and smelling of spices. It’s something that must be delicious to human senses, because he can see Hank visibly perking up.</p><p>"Ahh, smells fucking divine!" He groans, then apologizes as he glances over at Damian. It makes Chris laugh.</p><p>“Don't worry about it," he laughs. "I'm gonna put this little man to bed, make yourself at home." Chris claps Connor's shoulder and leaves the room. Ben and his wife raise their glasses at them from where they’re sitting by the kitchen island.</p><p>"You two came right in time for the decorating!" Tina says accusingly, grabbing a handful of sweets from one of the bowls on the counter, earning a slap on the wrist from Chris’ wife, Jessica. Connor observes that each of them are slightly intoxicated, and he casts a nervous glance at Hank when Chris comes back and offers to get them something to drink. To Connor’s knowledge, Hank hasn’t had a drink in months. He rarely talks about it, and Connor hasn’t really dared to ask. It doesn’t seem like Hank is thinking about it, and if he is, he’s hiding it well. For the second it takes Chris to head over to the fridge, he pre constructs three various ways of getting Hank to avoid any alcohol without embarrassing him.</p><p>Chris, ever the observant empath, takes one look at Connor, then comes over with two drinks - one thirium based, the other a non-alcoholic, dark red drink. It looks basically the same as the others’ drinks, though with no liquor.</p><p>Of course everyone in the room knows about Hank’s habits, but the fact that Chris doesn’t want him to feel left out causes his insides to hurt - a strange sensation in his gut that he has yet to define. He smiles at him, grateful, and hands the drink over to Hank. </p><p>“That’s good stuff,” Hank says as he takes a sip, his lips curling into a happy expression when he looks back at Connor, who has to hide his grin behind his own drink. </p><p>Ben and Tina’s partners envelop Hank in a hug when they head for their seats.</p><p>“Been too long, Anderson,” Tina’s wife tells him, slapping him on the arm. Hank just chuckles and puts a gentle hand on Connor’s back, urging him forward.</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’ve been busy. Uh, this is Connor.” </p><p>The partners are sweet and immediately begin asking Connor about the revolution and the work that he and Hank does. He answers them as thoroughly as he can without boring them, though it’s hard to concentrate on just how many details he relays while Hank keeps his hand on his back.</p><p>The others don’t seem to notice, except maybe Ben, who raises his eyebrows to Hank as Connor speaks to his wife. It’s quite possible that Ben already knows something is going on, and though Connor doesn’t want to hide, it makes him jittery.</p><p>“The base has cooled down now!” Jessica calls when she enters the kitchen and checks the gingerbread pieces. She brings the tray to the dinner table, and Connor is surprised by just how many pieces there are - he has only ever seen the sad, pre-baked one that Hank made last year. Intrigued by this woman and her baking technique, he stands up from the bar stool and checks the rest of the trays. There are four more.</p><p>He only needs to do a few quick searches to find the bakery that Jessica owns and runs. She has won prizes and diplomas for various outstanding cakes, one special prize for a gingerbread castle, decorated in edible paint and personalized candies.</p><p>Connor says as much when she starts putting the pieces together, dipping the edges in the melted sugar. He hears, as he says it, how incredibly uptight and robotic he sounds, and he tries to find a way to smooth over the rush of information thrown her way. Jessica doesn’t seem to mind.</p><p>“I know, it’s pretty neat, huh?” She says, eyes glowing with pride, and Connor relaxes again.  She gives him a knowing smile, and asks him to hold one of the pieces while she adds more glue. “I figure you’re the one with the steadiest hand around here. Don’t think I can count on anyone else in this room,” she says with a meaningful look at Chris, who gasps.</p><p>“Hey! You always tell me I’m doing a good job! I dropped it <em> once! </em>”</p><p>“Yes, but are you an android?” she laughs in response. Connor’s lips twitch into a smile as she returns to the task at hand.</p><p>“Wow Jess, these are looking more and more impressive every year,” Hank says, coming closer to inspect the result as Jessica and Connor glue the last pieces together. His free hand comes to rest against Connor’s lower back again, and Connor subconsciously presses against his palm, relief flooding his senses at the soft touch. It’s a quick touch, more of a <em> hello </em> than anything else. The others are too inhiberated and engrossed in the state of the gingerbread mansion to notice, but Jessica does a double take when she glances at Hank to thank him for the compliment, her eyes quickly dropping to where his hand is placed, before dropping it.</p><p>She looks between them for a split second, then goes back to the task at hand. “Well thank you, Hank. I’ve missed your creative additions to the gardens.”</p><p>Ben and Tina help carry decorations to the kitchen table, while Connor moves the trays aside, moving the house just enough to be centered between them. Tina examines the build closely, like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. </p><p>“This is so exact, what the fuck,” she mutters, and drags Connor over to point at something on the build. Ben tells Connor that Jessica made a castle last year, and that Chris had accidentally broken the roofing. They laugh, and Connor is happy to be included in the company.</p><p>Apparently they usually set these nights up as a competition of sorts, nothing serious, just enough to make it a bit more exciting. </p><p>They split up to handle each side of the gingerbread mansion. Connor isn’t allowed to be on Hank’s team, and neither is Jessica allowed on Chris’ (“it’s cheating if two of you have experts on your side!”), so they team up themselves to decorate the roof. </p><p>Connor finds it highly stimulating to create the small patterns of sugar paste along the roof. Jessica guides him while he pipes, and they almost manage to match each other’s style to a t. They add some edible paint at the chimney and on some parts of the roofs, which makes the mansion look like it’s covered in ivy. The ritual is so enjoyable that Connor momentarily forgets to monitor Hank and the people around him, and so he winces and messes up a detail when Tina gets out of her chair, scraping against the floor.</p><p>“Hah!” she laughs out loud at the other end of the table, when she glances over at Chris and Hank’s side. “What the fuck are you guys doing?”</p><p>“Hey, that’s not very nice,” Hank sniffs, crossing his arms, both he and Chris looking utterly offended. It makes them all laugh, and soon Tina is egging her wife to agree to outdo the guys. Ben and his partner, both working on the other side of the house, are actually making an effort to make it nice, and Connor hears him sigh loudly as Tina paints one window in red icing that’s supposed to be blood. Chris is meticulously garnishing the picket fences in pearly sprinkles, looking awfully concentrated.</p><p> Connor chances a glance over at Hank’s side, having been too engrossed in his own painting to actually watch what he’s doing. While the others argue, Hank catches his eye, watching him with something like lov- like something, written all over his face. </p><p>If Connor was human, he would blush. </p><p>Then he looks at what Hank and Chris have accomplished on their side, and suddenly bursts into laughter.</p><p>Chris has been trying to imitate red and green Christmas lights at the front of the house, but he has been too enthusiastic and smeared some of the color all over the walls. Hank seems to have gotten bored quite quickly of the decorating, and has instead started drawing faces on some gingerbread men, scattering them all over the yard like a very small army, a few of them missing legs and arms. He has used the white sugar paste to draw around the bodies like they’d do at a crime scene. One of the faces has a blue LED on it, and Connor sees how much more attention was put to that one.</p><p>“Why am I not surprised?” Jessica sighs, shaking her head, which causes Connor to giggle some more. He notices the other’s looks, this probably being the first time they’ve ever truly heard Connor laugh. </p><p>Hank’s eyes crinkle in a smile. His hands are sticky from the sugar paste and some flour from the baking sheets. Connor can’t wait to go home and lick the residues off each of his digits.</p><p> </p><p>They say goodnight a few hours later, Hank and Connor being the first to leave, because Hank is getting too tired and Connor’s mind is all over the place. </p><p>They’re heading for the hallway, the others coming to join them to say goodbye, when Hank pats Connor’s shoulder and points to the ceiling. Connor’s brain stops working for a split second.</p><p>That’s a mistletoe. Unmistakably a mistletoe. Connor thinks of how many times Chris and Jessica have stopped under it, smiling at each other to give each other a kiss. He looks back at Hank, who raises his eyebrows in question. When there’s no resistance from Connor, he closes the distance and gives him a kiss - just a peck on his lips, but a kiss, nonetheless. Connor can swear he feels his knees go weak, even though that’s impossible.</p><p>This moment can’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but by the time they pull away to keep going towards the door, Connor looks back to the kitchen to find Ben staring at them.</p><p>He doesn’t look upset, or disgusted, but Connor feels his body tensing up, getting ready to disarm the situation. Hank doesn’t look all that worried about it, but his stress level is climbing. Ben looks between them, then giving them a kind smile. </p><p>“Looks like some people at the station owe me twenty bucks,” he says with a chortle. Hank visibly relaxes, shaking his head. </p><p>“Not surprised you’d know.”</p><p>“We’ve known each other for too long, I think.” Though Ben smiles at the both of them, Connor can’t do much, his mouth refuses to cooperate and form words.</p><p>“Just, um.” Hank looks back at Connor, squeezing him tight as he says, “We’re kinda keeping this low profile for a while, in case--”</p><p>Ben holds up a hand. “Of course, secret’s safe with me.” He keeps his voice low, and the moment is over in the blink of an eye.</p><p>“What secret?” Tina bellows from the kitchen, voice tinged with intoxication. </p><p>“That you’re the sorest loser of the bunch?” Ben yells back.</p><p> </p><p>They all say their goodbyes, and when Connor and Hank are back home Hank receives a text from Ben. Hank smiles as he reads the text.</p><p>“He says he’s happy for us. Whaddaya know?”</p><p>Connor loves the expression on his face. He wants to kiss him for the rest of the evening.</p><p>“Do you think he is okay with it, truly?”</p><p>“Probably, can’t imagine it’d rub him off the wrong way. He’s kind of laid back, Ben. And he’s stopped being surprised by whatever I get up to.” Hank snorts at his own throwaway comment, and Connor crowds into his space, eager to know more.</p><p>“Please elaborate,” Connor says, creeping closer. Hank’s heartrate is climbing.</p><p>“Uh I,” Hank mumbles, blushing, “I mean that I was kind of a slut back in our time.” He explains this very quickly, and it makes Connor laugh again, a bubbly giggle that he himself finds to be annoying, but which stretches Hank’s lips into a toothy grin. </p><p>“You’ve been laughing a lot tonight,” he observes, squeezing his arms around him. “I like it.”</p><p>Connor thinks that this is the first time in months that he's heard Hank laugh this much, as well.</p><p>Connor’s thirium pump hurts from the sheer emotion he feels when he looks into Hank’s eyes. He wants to express all these feelings to him, but he can’t find the words. Instead, he giggles and asks,</p><p>“Promiscuous?”</p><p>“Had a lot of love to spread,” Hank laughs, and Connor kisses him, deep and sultry, and so much in love. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Dog walks and snowballs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Connor is worried.</p><p>He's anxious about the ski trip, two days from now. Though he has planned it meticulously, has booked the nicest hotel and even though Hank's ankle is basically good now, he's...</p><p>Well. Worried.</p><p>Hank is being nice about it, probably still ashamed about his stubbornness about the whole thing. In fact, he's been on his best behavior for a week now, but Connor knows that a lot of it is fake, a pretense for him so he won't worry about him.</p><p>Despite the self depricating  way he likes to describe himself, Hank is a caring person who makes an effort to make Connor happy, and that feels… both good, and terrible. </p><p>The effort that Hank put in yesterday at Chris' became clear once they got settled back home and Connor noticed Hank breathing heavily in the bathroom- from the sounds of it, trying to compose himself.</p><p>It's not fair to put so much pressure on him, he knows that - Hank is worn, he's tired and Connor can only assume that he never planned to hang on for this long.</p><p>Yet he tries, for Connor's sake.</p><p>He still catches Hank when he thinks no one's watching - sees his shoulders bunch up, his face fall. He sometimes hears the melancholy tunes of Hank's favorite jazz singer when Hank hasn't noticed that he's back home from walking Sumo, Hank lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.</p><p>So, if Connor's gonna force Hank to go on this trip, he'll make sure that he'll be comfortable and pampered, if it's the last thing Connor does. </p><p>He takes this thought with him for the rest of the work day, trying to find out if Hank likes his hair brushed, if he enjoys foot massage, what his opinion about hot tubs are. </p><p>The day seems never ending, and now he can't wait to finally go on vacation.</p><p>One more day.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>The temperature drop since November has had a break the over night, as rain suddenly fell over Detroit and melted away chunks of the snow.</p><p>It was a nice morning in terms of not having to scrape the car windows, but a complete nightmare once they drove the short way to work. They had to get into the station one more time today to pick up some paperwork for Hank, which led to them staying for a few more hours, naturally. It's Hank's own fault for not finishing all the stuff he <em>should have finished </em>a week ago, but he's been otherwise occupied.</p><p>The temperature has not yet gone back to freezing, but the moisture in the air makes Hank chilled to the bone. He wraps his scarf around his neck an extra time, burrowing his face inside of it with the lapels of his coat pulled high up.</p><p>Connor doesn’t seem to even notice the shift in the weather, only once they’re out with Sumo in the evening and his processors slow down a little, his LED constantly shifting to yellow.</p><p>Sumo trots on as usual, barely registering that his paws slip on the new ice, not yet covered by snow. Hank feels at once like an old man, with ice picks under his heels. He’s not gonna fall a single time again this winter, he tells himself.</p><p>When they get to the dog park and Hank lets Sumo roam free, Connor grabs his arm for purchase, stumbling over a patch of ice. Hank smirks.</p><p>“Having regrets about refusing your own ice picks now, eh Connor?” Connor shoots him a glare at that.</p><p>“I’m a highly advanced prototype,” he says, and by the amount of times he uses that excuse, it almost sounds like his catchphrase. “I can stand on my own two legs.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>This early in the afternoon, there’s not yet a lot of dog owners out, and Hank enjoys not having to pry Sumo away from the chihuahuas and shit. Sumo happily sniffs at every single tree, making sure to mark them as well. Connor follows him along, smiling to himself. Hank loves seeing those two together. </p><p>“Hey Con,” he calls eventually, once Sumo has done his trip around the dog park. He bends down to grab a bunch of snow, a little wet and sploshy, but it works for this purpose. There's grass and dirt sticking to the white, but that's all right. He presses the snow into an ugly ball and grabs Sumo’s attention by whistling at him. </p><p>“Here boy,” He calls and pitches the snowball across the lawn. Sumo, who usually just walks at a leisurely pace, perks up and shoots towards where the ball lands. He sniffs the ground around it and bites into the cold snow, eager to catch his prey.</p><p>Hank picks up another batch of melting snow, squeezing into a messy ball, throwing it a little closer, and Sumo springs into action again.</p><p>Connor stares at them, wide-eyed. He looks over at Hank, amber eyes full of excitement.</p><p>“Can I try?” he asks, looking like he's about to start bouncing on the balls of his feet.</p><p>“Go ahead,” Hank says with a wave of his hand. Connor’s face lights up even more. His snowballs look far better than Hank’s, and he gathers the snow much faster, making a small pile for himself. The first few times, he throws the snowballs just a little too far, and Sumo bounds forward a few paces, before looking back at Connor in confusion. Connor laughs at himself for that.</p><p>“Sorry Sumo,” he calls and picks up more snow in another patch. “I’ll go easier on you.” The next throws are much better, in Sumo's opinion. </p><p>It’s fifteen minutes later when Sumo finally calls it quits, panting and wagging his tail tiredly. </p><p>“Ready to go home, snowball queen?” Hank asks and receives a slap on his arm. </p><p>When they get closer to home, Connor is sufficiently distracted by Sumo, enough for Hank to bring out his childish streak and dump a handful of snow inside his coat.</p><p>It doesn't really have any satisfying effect on him - Connor stops in his tracks, no yelp or jump or anything. Instead, he stares at the wet patch on his shirt, where the snow has quickly melted.</p><p>"Why'd you do that?"</p><p>Hank is disappointed, and immediately regrets his decision, as Connor looks up at him and gives him a wicked smile. Hank has no time to escape before his face is covered in snow. Connor laughs for the rest of the way home, and Hank is too giddy from the sounds to be pissed.</p><p> </p><p>Sumo is absolutely drenched when they get back home, shaking his fur and leaving dirty paw prints on the floor. Hank sighs at that.</p><p>“Oh boy, you are not gonna be happy about this,” he says, inspecting Sumo’s mudstained paws. “We need to give him a B-A-T-H.”</p><p>Sumo whines loudly when Connor picks him up off the floor, struggling a little as he’s carried towards the bathroom. Hank follows them, taking a detour to the garage to find his dog shampoo. </p><p>They fill the tub halfway or so, closing the door behind them and combing through Sumo’s hair. He is not happy, still whining, but being the well behaved dog that he is, he stays put. That is, until Hank starts coaxing him into the bath. The poor dog tries hiding behind the shower curtain, only his head hiding from view. Hank hates doing this, honestly, even though he logically knows that he’s not really hurting his poor puppy. Connor doesn’t seem to have these qualms, and he uses treats an a firm hand to guide Sumo into the bathtub.</p><p>Once in, Sumo stops whining, finding that it’s not so bad when his dad feeds him treat after treat. Connor grabs the shower hose and methodically starts wetting his thick fur. The paws are saved for last, because Sumo is ticklish under them, and he’s going to get antsy once they start on them. He does look mildly content while Connor massages the shampoo into his fur and gently on his head. His tail is wagging cautiously, and Connor’s face gets a lick when he bends over to rinse the suds off of the top of the dog’s head.</p><p>By the time Connor lifts Sumo out of the tub, Hank is exhausted - He never likes seeing Sumo uncomfortable like that, and he’s glad that he’s got a partner who doesn’t mind doing these things for him.</p><p>Partner.</p><p>Right. They still haven’t put a label on this, but maybe they don’t have to.</p><p>"Hank?" Connor says, as if he's just read Hank's mind.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"I know I've been asking a lot from you lately."</p><p>"You haven't, not really." Hank's heart squeezes at the thought that Connor might think he's doing something wrong. "You're not asking much, it's just that." He tilts his head, trying to figure out a way to say it. "A little becomes... A lot for me, I guess. But I want to do things for you," he adds.</p><p>"No, I know," Connor says softly, a small smile on his lips. "I just want you to know that I see the effort you're putting in, and that I am grateful to be able to do these things with you."</p><p>Hank will not cry. Nope, he refuses to start bawling his eyes out because he gets to be with Connor like this. He doesn't want to cry, yet he feels the tears threatening to escape. </p><p>"'S all right," he manages, croaking from the restriction in his throat.</p><p>Connor is too good for him, and Hank can't possibly believe that he'd want to be called Hank's partner - or Hank's <em>anything.</em></p><p> Yet, he thinks about last night, while Connor goes to change into loungewear. </p><p>He thinks of the way Connor had confidently set the mood for the night, kissing all parts of Hank’s body, whispering how beautiful and big he is, how much Connor has longed to touch him like this all evening. </p><p>Even though he’s not in the mood right now, he feels himself blush from head to toe as he remembers.</p><p>Connor seems to sense where his mind is wandering to, because his eyes crinkle in a knowing smile, and Hank, obvious-in love-Hank, grabs the back of his neck and kisses him hard.</p><p>Partner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Soup kitchen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank wants to go to sleep and Connor wants to head for the homeless shelter</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm sorry for making these chapters so long 🙈 I swear I'm trying to keep these under 1K</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With one day left before leaving for the mountains, Hank decides to take work home to wrap up the last crap that he still hasn’t finished. Connor didn’t want to join him today, insisting that he needed to focus and Hank distracts him. While Hank does get where Connor's coming from, he’s a little grumpy about the whole deal.</p><p> It’s not like he and Connor need to be joined at the hip, not like he feels sad and lonely when Connor isn’t there to brighten his day. </p><p>He makes some coffee, sits down by his desk and boots up his computer. It’s raining again, the snow that covered the ground for weeks all but a memory by now. It’s depressing, is what it is. Dark and gray and wet.</p><p>He gets up to scratch Sumo behind his ears. An hour later, he's back in the chair.</p><p>He does manage to get some work done, answering e-mails and hosting a small video chat lecture to some new interns, telling them about his experience on the red ice-raid. It’s pretty fun work, and the hours go by fast once he gets swept up in it. The students are eager for examples from a guy who's been out there, and the lecture drags on as they keep him for questions.</p><p>Not until the sun goes down, and he starts missing Connor again, does work slow down. He turns on his automatic reply for mail, calls Jeffrey to make sure his work is covered, and then he switches off. </p><p>It feels strange, knowing he’s got over two weeks of free time - he can barely remember the last time he had more than a weekend off from work. Back before he met Connor, there hadn’t been any reason to be home alone for so long, and either way, he didn't like the hours he spent in his living room, staring into a wall and drinking himself into a stupor.</p><p>He’s not sure if he looks forward to the coming weeks or not. Him and Connor are good, though. Really good. Despite everything, Connor still wants to be with him. He can't ask for more than that.</p><p>They have some things left to pack before it’s time to go to bed, mostly underwear and clothes that are currently in the drier. Hank has aleft Sumo at Chris’ house, though, which saves them some time tomorrow. Sumo always knows when it's time to go somewhere, and he doesn't enjoy riding in the car for more than ten minutes or so. It would only make things more stressful in the morning.</p><p>He gets some gingerbread from the cupboards in the kitchen, lighting up some candles and the lamps in the living room. The paper garlands that Connor made the other week have unfortunately loosened from their place by the kitchen window, and they had to eventually take them down. He finds he misses them.</p><p>Getting cosy under a thick blanket, he settles on the couch and turns on an old Gears match. It’s not until the commentator’s voice starts getting into the game that Hank feels how bone tired he is. His eyes flutter shut within a minute, and when he wakes up, Connor is home. </p><p>"Hey, had a good day?" Hank calls over the backrest of the sofa, rubbing his eyes. Connor doesn't say anything. "Connor?"</p><p>Connor closes the door and comes over, sitting down next to him. Though still groggy from his nap, Hank lifts his arm for Connor to settle against him. Connor looks distraught.</p><p>"Bad case," he explains. "Gavin's. They needed me for a check of the android."</p><p>"You wanna talk about it?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"All right." </p><p> </p><p>They stay like this for a moment, quiet and thoughtful. Then Connor breaks the silence.</p><p>"Josh is setting up a soup kitchen tonight." He says this very casually, and Hank suspects that he's been gearing up to suggest they'd go. No tucking in early tonight.</p><p>"A soup kitchen," Hank repeats.</p><p>"Yes. It's for homeless humans and androids, he's found a place where there's enough room for them to meet and be fed. I guess it's fitting for this season, but he really hopes to get it going after the holidays."</p><p>"Huh," Hank says. "No soup for the androids, though?"</p><p>Connor smiles. "No, just thirium. It's still so expensive for us. As you are well aware of."</p><p>It's so typical of Connor, always needing to do more, even as he works himself to the bone to protect androids. Hank really doesn't want to go - in fact, he has to pinch the inside of his wrist to avoid going back to sleep. </p><p>“All right, so what, you wanna go tonight?” Hank asks, not bringing up the fact that they still haven’t packed everything, and that they’re driving for several hours tomorrow. </p><p>"We don't have to," Connor says, but Hank takes one look at him, and knows It's important to him. </p><p>He guesses he'll sleep in the car.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Connor?” Josh shouts one hour later, smiling and waving as Connor and Hank enter the building. He’s a nice guy, Hank concedes, calm and intelligent. Used to be a university teacher, according to Connor. </p><p>He greets Hank with a warm handshake. If he knows that Hank is part of the police, he doesn’t act like it, and Hank once more feels like a crook for working on the force. He’s well aware of the way police have been treating androids, how he used to treat Connor back in the early days. Josh doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, ever the diplomat.</p><p>“If you came here to help, we’ve got a shortage of people up at the human soup station. Care to start portioning soup?” he asks, gesturing towards a lineup of tables with bowls and plates, glasses and big pots. It does smell lovely in here, Hank thinks as they approach the tables.</p><p>People haven't arrived quite yet, so they have plenty of time to get a tour of the place. Josh tells them about the arrangement with the owners of the place, and Hank once again is baffled by these androids' fortitude. </p><p> </p><p>By the time that humans and androids start coming through the doors, Hank is ready to go back home and sleep. He feels a headache come on, and sticks to handing out plates and bowls to everyone in line. But Connor is looking like he’s having a lot of fun, his LED blue while he talks to every single android in line to get bottles of thirium. The androids interface with each other, receiving news and information through Connor. An odd sense of pride fills Hank at the sight of him, laughing and charming the people around him.</p><p>Back before he was alive, while still charming in his blunt way, he had a funny, stilted way of conversing. Nowadays, he seems more comfortable with his own self. Hank can’t believe that Connor wants to be with him, when there are people like these who would eat out of the palm of his fucking hand.</p><p>The pots empty out quickly, and Hank carries them out to the kitchen, pulling a cart out with dirty plates as well. He has already spilled food on his apron.</p><p>The kitchen is busy as fuck, the people cooking the food barely taking notice of him when he slips out with a new cart, clean plates stacked on the bottom shelf.</p><p>He stops short on the way out, as he sees an incredibly handsome man speaking to Connor. A <em>very</em> handsome man.</p><p>Ever the professional, Connor focuses on dealing out thirium bottles to the homeless androids, but this man, who clearly is not homeless, is hanging around him. The man leans closer, winking at Connor and bumping their hips together as he helps him pick up a crate of empty thirium bottles.</p><p>If Connor is uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. Hank wishes he would.</p><p>He has no choice but to head back to his table, though he glances at Connor, making sure that guy with the beautiful blond hair and the strong chin doesn’t overstep it.</p><p>Honestly, he’s not really a jealous man - he tends to trust his partners, knows that there’s no harm in talking, even harmlessly flirting, with others. </p><p>They aren’t partners, though. Not yet. </p><p>And now Hank is slamming the ladle just a little too hard into the pot, sloshing more tomato juice on his apron. The woman in front of him jerks backwards in surprise, and Hank has to apologize, red-faced and embarrassed. </p><p>By the time Connor comes back, Hank can’t even remember how long he’s been here, doesn’t know what time it is or why he came here in the first place. Connor places a warm hand on the small of his back, slowly rubbing circles over the spot where he fell. His hand is warm through the fabric of Hank's shirt. He starts to feel better when he chances a look towards where Connor stood a moment ago, to find the handsome man glaring at him. Either he and Connor are that obvious, or Connor must have told him that he's taken. The thought makes Hank puff up his chest, glad to have pissed over his territory. Or glad that Connor pissed over it. He's glad, is the point.</p><p>“Thought he'd never leave,” Connor mumbles under his breath, and Hank feels himself lighten up. “That guy could not take a hint.”</p><p>“Should have called for help,” Hank mutters, checking the pot and realizing that it’s empty again. “Nina, I’m just gonna fill this bad boy up,” he calls to one of the other volunteers, carrying it again to the kitchen. He's pissed and miserable, wishing he could have done something.</p><p>Connor follows him, being very quiet until they pass the kitchen. He takes the pot from Hank, and pulls him towards the hanger room, pushing themselves in between the jackets. Hank goes with him, even as he still is a little bitter.</p><p>“Hank,” Connor mumbles, noses touching, “are you jealous?”</p><p>“What?” Hank’s voice is gruff, and he hears the petulance in his own voice. “Just didn’t enjoy watching you two flirt from the other end of the room.”</p><p>“You know that I wasn’t flirting,” Connor says, though he's looking awfully smug. Bastard is probably gauging his pulse right now. </p><p>“Of course I know, it’s not that, it’s just.” He doesn’t continue his explanation, mouth slamming shut.</p><p>“I understand,” Connor says after a beat. “It would be easier if you could just come and claim me in front of him, wouldn’t it?” </p><p>This turns Hank's face beet red, he can feel it in the heat rising from his collar. Connor, very much aware of his choice of wording, only smirks. </p><p>“I meant like the mistletoe I was standing under--" Connor he continues, just as Hank mutters without thinking,</p><p>“A ring or my name on your forehead would be easier--” </p><p>Hank cuts himself off as he registers Connor's words.</p><p>“You were standing under a mistletoe with him!?” He groans loudly, feeling too wrung out for this unexpected jealousy to take over his brain. He rubs his hand over his face, standing like that for a moment, until the possessive fog disperses from his brain and he doesn't want to stick his tongue down Connor's throat in front of Mr Preppy anymore.</p><p>When he looks back at Connor, he’s staring at him, eyes wide and mouth open. Hank knows that look, and all thoughts of that guy is out the window. </p><p>"Hank. I like you like this," Connor purrs, pulling closer. "Your voice pitches lower when you're jealous."</p><p>"I'm not," Hank starts, but then Connor shuts him up with a deep, wet kiss.</p><p>For a second Hank thinks that Connor is going to suck him off right there in the coat room, and hysteria builds up in him as Connor presses his body even tighter against his.</p><p> Thankfully at that moment, one of the volunteers shoots through the doors, slamming something on the ground and shouting at someone over the phone. It sounds like she’s right in the middle of a breakup, and her high strung energy breaks off whatever is going on with Connor and Hank. </p><p>When they leave the coat room, they just laugh about it, and Connor says he’s going to say goodbye to Josh before they leave.</p><p>Hank’s blood nearly boils when he sees that guy flirting it up with Connor while he talks to Josh, touching his arm and laughing hard when Connor tells a joke. To Hank’s horror, he catches Connor’s eye. And the fucking bastard winks at him, fully aware of how worked up he’s making him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“We’ll never make it there tomorrow if you don’t get me to bed soon,” Hank complains while trying to turn the key in the lock, feeling Connor snuggling up against his back, and feeling himself getting incredibly turned on, despite his mental state. He misses the lock several times before finally getting it in.</p><p>“That’s the plan,” Connor purrs into his ear, grinding into him, and Hank nearly topples over.</p><p>“As long as you’re driving us there.”</p><p>“Not a problem. As long as you’ll show me what I missed under the mistletoe.”</p><p>“Jesus,” Hank groans, and he knows he’s gonna have to sleep in the car the next morning.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. What an (un)welcome surprise!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor and Hank finally drive to the ski resort, getting ready for a luxurious time in an expensive suite.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They leave early in the morning. Too early according to Hank, who only got a few hours of sleep and is pissed that they can’t just leave at noon. Connor ignores his whining. He’s high strung, nervous and excited about the coming couple of days. For weeks, he’s been imagining how it would be to walk in the snow, hand in hand with Hank, gliding down the slopes next to each other. Hank in thermal underwear and ski pants with suspenders on, ice in his beard. Connor definitely has rose colored glasses on, and while he is very much aware of that, he can’t stop the fantasy in his mind. </p><p>“You ready?” he asks as Hank huffs and lugs his baggage towards the car. A gruff grunt is all he gets in response, a perfect scowl on Hank’s face. For a brief moment, Connor feels bad for keeping Hank up so late, especially when he comes up for a hug and sees the bags under his eyes. Hank is smiling once they sit in the car though, blasting the heat on full power until it’s uncomfortably warm inside. He is barely coherent for the first hour on the road, sitting with his coffee in his hands, only answering Connor in one syllable words, and Connor lets him be for the time being. Snow begins to fall on the bare ground in Detroit as they roll out - Maybe it’ll be white, once they come back home.</p><p>Hank drinks his coffee, asking Connor if he checked the stove, the coffee machine, the doors. Of course Connor has checked everything, and he tells him as much.</p><p>“Sorry for keeping you awake last night,” Connor says, guilt striking him hard when Hank starts to lean against the window. The corner of Hank's lips tilts up at the apology, the smugness radiating off of him.</p><p>“‘s all right. Had a good fucking time. As long as I catch some Zs on the way up, I'll be right as fucking rain.”</p><p>“Okay,” Connor says, still feeling bad. He fidgets with the wheel, fingers tapping nervously.</p><p>sensing his thought process, Hank lifts a hand to his cheek, caressing it tenderly. Connor grabs it and kisses the back of it. </p><p>"Don't worry about, okay?" Hank smiles, and Connor relaxes.</p><p>Every once in a while Hank shifts in his seat, wincing when he tries to find a better sitting position. Connor knows why that is - It’s not because of his fall the other week.</p><p>A flash of last night pops into his HUD, and he blinks it away, not wanting to be distracted. It was a good night, the way Hank allowed him to spread him out on the bed, lavishing him in kisses and touches, making sure to keep him awake until they were finished. It’s not that often when Hank allows all the focus to be on him, and Connor always cherishes those moments. Hank came in Connor’s hand, expression beautiful while he was whimpering into his shoulder while Connor moved inside him.</p><p>They usually are soft when they make - when they fuck, because Connor doesn’t know whether he’d like anything rougher than whatever they do right now, and Hank is wary of hurting Connor.</p><p>It’s ironic, that Hank is scared of damaging him, when he’s the one opening up for a murder machine.</p><p>It’s a privilege to see Hank like that. Connor doesn’t think he’s let many people see him that vulnerable. And he lets Connor. </p><p>“Sore?” he says, barely able to hide the glee in his tone while Hank groans, again moving in his seat. He shoots him a glare and his middle finger, but there’s no heat behind it. Connor hears him chuckle to himself, muttering about “Smug bastard, is what you are.”</p><p> </p><p>While Hank sleeps, Connor plays the Christmas music on the radio, feeling particularly proud of the new android bands popping up on the top lists. The snowfall is heavier the closer they come to their destination.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>As the impressive snow covered mountains begin to peek over the trees and towns that they drive across, Connor's thirium pump stutters in excitement.They’re so big that it’s almost difficult to grasp, the way they stretch across the horizon. Hank is still asleep in the passenger seat, having pulled his hat over his eyes. </p><p>Connor was nervous last night, scared of how the weekend might progress, and the soup kitchen was a perfect distraction from his own nerves. The discovery of the way Hank’s voice lowers an octave when he feels territorial was a lovely discovery.</p><p>Not that he’d ever be worried about Hank being jealous. It’s just weird to be together, and still not … together. He understands why Hank was upset - They’ve been trying so hard to lay low, even though all Connor wants is to show the world that Hank is his. It was really sad to stand on the other end of the room in the shelter, listening to this guy flirting it up, not being able to mention that his partner was over at the soup station, to pretend like he was single. He would have done anything to just stride over and kiss Hank in front of everyone. </p><p>But they’ve decided to be discreet, to pretend like their relationship is purely platonic.</p><p>This trip is about to change that. He wants it to be special, the way Hank made their one-month mark special. They’re going to check in to the hotel, enjoying the fancy suite that Connor booked months ago. There will be soft sheets, fluffy bathrobes, and they'll celebrate with some pre ordered strawberries and non alcoholic champagne. Connor is going to show him the festive lingerie that he bought the other week. They’ll <em> make love </em> in the king sized bed and Connor will ask him to be his boyfriend-</p><p>Connor frowns at the thought. Maybe the term <em> partner </em> is preferrable. Hank probably thinks <em> boyfriend </em> sounds too young. Doesn’t matter, he’ll be fine with either.</p><p>Then Hank will hold him, and kiss him. And Connor will tell Hank that he loves him, loves him so much. They’ll be together, for real. </p><p>He glances over at Hank again. He’s snoring lightly, head leaning against the window. </p><p>---</p><p>“I’m sorry, but there seems to have been a mistake with the suite,” the woman at the reception’s desk says apologetically. “I’m afraid another guest has checked in already.”</p><p>“What?” is all Connor can say, this problem not something that he has foreseen. The poor android at the reception looks nervously between him and Hank, and Connor schools his face to stop making the expression he reserves for interrogations. He settles for a smile, but it feels more like a grimace.</p><p>“I--” she stammers, “I’m sorry. There was something wrong in our system. The suite was double booked.”</p><p>“All right,” Hank sighs, putting his hands on the desk. “So how are you guys gonna fix this, then?”</p><p>He’s not rude or angry, just trying to put them on the path of figuring out where they’re going to stay the night. The receptionist, Liz, is quiet for a second, her LED blinking yellow. </p><p>“There’s a lodge that is supposed to be free for the next few days,” she continues. “It’s not… It’s not as modern. And technically it doesn’t come with breakfast in the mornings. But if you’d like, we’ll make sure you get into the buffet anyway," she adds enthusiastically.</p><p>“Okay,” Hank says, nodding. Connor feels his stomach swirl painfully-an extremely uncomfortable sensation.</p><p>“And of course we’ll make sure to return the money you had to spend!” </p><p>“Well then.” Hank pats Connor’s shoulder, giving Liz a tight lipped smile. “Why don’t you show us this lodge?”</p><p>Connor tries to not take it out on Liz, who's only trying to help, but the smile he gives her is strained.</p><p>---</p><p> The stress that Connor hoped would evaporate as soon as they arrived at the place, returns full force, the pulse of his thirium flowing through his wiring at such speed that it causes his hands to shake.</p><p>This isn’t the way he’d imagined it. Try as he might, he doesn’t seem to hide his disappointment very well. Hank looks over at him, frowning.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Nothing is wrong,” Connor says, thinking he’s sounding very mechanical at the moment. “I just…. was excited about the bathtub."</p><p>The suite he booked is not so much a suite, but it had a large bathroom and a huge bathtub that he was looking forward to sinking into with Hank. It had a large window overlooking the parts of the mountains not designated to skiing, and he has been imagining himself and Hank cuddled together in a bubble bath, watching the snow fall outside.</p><p>Now instead, they’re stuck in a small cabin with no heating besides one radiator in the bedroom and the hearth in the all room.</p><p>The good thing, he supposes, is that there is a hot tub, though it’s a lot more... Rustic. It's also outside and he foresees Hank freezing enough to not be inclined towards a late-night dip. </p><p>Hank drops the bags on the floor. Connor can’t move, having frozen to the spot in the middle of the living room with the old furniture dressed in awful upholstery, staring at the fireplace. He hears Hank approaching and makes no effort to move.</p><p>“Hey,” he says, pulling him into a hug. “Hey, it’s gonna be all right. We’ll have a lot of fun the rest of the day, and we’ll barely be in here anyway, right?”</p><p>“Right,” Connor agrees, but he imagines the sexy times that he planned for this weekend, and his heart sinks. Hank kisses his cheek.</p><p>“C’mon, we still need to check out the place, get some nice breakfast for tomorrow. And get the skis."</p><p>He says this like it’s the best news ever. Connor has never heard him speak of this in any level of excitement, and the effort he puts in is so sweet that he wants to cry. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Connor says, his voice a wobble. “I wanted this to be perf--”</p><p>“Shut your fucking mouth,” Hank says, though there’s no venom in his voice. "We're together, that's what's important, Babe."</p><p>Connor nods.</p><p>The hour is still a little too early for dinner, so they spend an hour or so checking the place and making the bed - at least they got a double. Hank gets to stretch out his legs for a bit, and Connor has time to recharge.</p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>They get one dinner at the fancy hotel restaurant, and while Connor can’t eat, he enjoys dressing up and being out and about. Hank gets his fancier shirt out, paired with a gray suit. He looks dashing.</p><p>Hank orders food, and they sit opposite the other, enjoying each other’s company. Once they’re waiting for dessert, Hank reaches across the table for Connor’s hand. Connor smiles, takes it. It feels good.The waiter shows up, offering to get Connor a thirium drink, which Connor accepts. It’s better to have something to do with his hands, while watching Hank. </p><p>“And does your friend want anything else?” the waiter asks, looking over at Hank. Connor feels his skin prickle, and Hank’s cheeks flush just a little. </p><p>“Uh. Maybe a top off?” he asks with a lift of his glass.</p><p>“Coming right up!”</p><p>It’s that innocent comment that sends Connor into action, once they’re back out in the cold, wandering down the shopping lane back to the cabin. There are lights hanging between the shops, illuminating the streets despite the fact that the street lamps are turned off. They pass a grocery store, and once they’re stocked up for the weekend, they venture down the lane.</p><p>Despite his previously sour mood, he feels a little lighter now, enjoying the feeling of Hank’s hand in his, window shopping in the small stores. There are quite a lot of people outside, and while some of them stare at them, most just go about their merry way. When they exit a ceramics store, Hank squeezes Connor’s hand, pointing up at the mistletoe above them. He smiles, and Connor swears he feels his cheeks flush.</p><p>“Lemme show you how I wanted to treat you yesterday at that soup thing,” he says with a grin, enveloping Connor in a tight hug and pressing their lips together.</p><p><em> He’s so warm</em>, Connor thinks. His lips soft, a little chapped from the cold. Connor makes a note in his head to get him some chapstick. His beard has stiffened, and it scratches pleasantly against his cheeks.</p><p>“Hank?” Connor asks when they pull apart, just enough to look each other in the eye. Hank’s are twinkling, Connor swears they do.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Do you want to be my boyfriend?”</p><p>Surprisingly, Hank barks out a loud laugh, so loud that Connor jumps and people nearby turn their heads. He imediately covers his mouth and simply grins. Connor raises an eyebrow, not knowing really why he feels a little offended.</p><p>“What?” he says. In response, Hank simply grabs his face again and kisses him silly. It takes another minute of making out before Connor realizes that they’re right in the way of the shop entrance. There’s a woman clearing her throat from  inside the shop, a couple standing in waiting to get inside, pinched looks on their faces. Hank drops his hands to Connor’s waist and back, pulling him closer and out of the way from the door. </p><p>“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, nodding apologetically at the people muttering as they walk inside. </p><p>Connor buries his face into Hank’s chest, simultaneously mortified and ecstatic. His thirium pump works overtime, he almost feels lightheaded, and he clutches Hank’s arms when he looks back up with a grin on his face. Hank is just as embarrassed, it seems, covering his face with one hand.</p><p>“God, I feel like a teenager just caught by his mom,” he laughs. Connor takes his wrist and pulls the hand off his face. Hank is blushing. The shop lights bathe him in a warm glow. The anxiety that Connor has been plagued with for days is slowly receding.</p><p>“You didn’t answer my question,” he says, though by now he know the answer. Hank raises his eyebrows at him, the corner of his mouth lifting.</p><p>“Thought it was obvious,” is his answer, “but yes. Of course. I’ll be your boyfriend, baby.”</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It’s freezing when they get back into the cabin, the air somehow feeling even colder than outside. It doesn't bother Connor but Hank is shivering from head to toe, wrapping His arms tight around himself, almost jumping in place.</p><p>Of course they didn't think to turn the radiators on, and even though they turn them all on, on the highest setting, it will take a while for the temperature to rise.</p><p>"Looks like we'll need to get the fire started," Hank says, teeth clattering together after Five minutes inside. Connor follows the decline in his internal temperature, and though he logically can assume that Hank isn't in any immediate danger, he wants to wrap him up in every blanket he can find.</p><p>He also can't figure out how to start the fire. For all his advanced software, he has not yet learned this skill - much to Hank's delight.</p><p>"All right, well first you gotta do is build a nice house for the fire."</p><p>"House?" Connor repeats, sceptical already. </p><p>"Well, if you just put one log over the other and call it a day it's not gonna last very long," Hank explains. "My old man used to create this sort of bridge of the logs, put some news paper there in the middle, and…"</p><p>He keeps explaining, and while Connor doesn't really care about the technical aspects of building a fire, he listens intently to whatever he is saying, recording every raise and fall of his breath, the way he flaps his hands in the air as if to convey whatever word that he can’t remembering right in this moment.</p><p>His boyfriend. The word shoots around his insides, bouncing at every wall of his system.</p><p>Boyfriend.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Don't rock the lift</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Connor finds out he has a fear of heights.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's not as early as Hank feared when he checks the clock the next morning, even though his head is pounding just a little. </p><p>
  <span>The radiators don’t do much for the temperature in the cabin, which means that Hank wakes up with feet cold as fucking ice. He shivers a little, pressing his toes between Connor’s thighs to heat them up before going to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While he does his business, he thinks wistfully of the suite that they had booked, about the floor heating and the warm water that doesn’t need a full minute to prepare from the sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to admit that he really struggled to keep a happy face going when they arrived, the only thing forcing him to suck it up being the look of complete and utter disappointment on Connor’s face. Hank can take a bad night or two, but this is Connor’s first vacation, and damn it to hell if Hank’s gonna put a damper on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end they made a nice evening of it, and at least Connor seems like he might be looking forward to their stay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he emerges from the bathroom, Connor is up and going through the fridge, smiling warmly at his approach. They kiss, murmuring “Hey, boyfriend,” into each other's mouths and laughing. Connor has his adorable woollen socks with red patterns and that thick, butter-soft fabric inside. Paired with Connor’s sleepwear, which is a pair of briefs and one of Hank’s shirts, he looks practically edible. How the fuck is this guy in Hank’s kitchen, giving </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> that dopey smile?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>While getting dressed for the day’s adventure, Hank has to sit down on a stool, fighting with the thermal pants while keeping his undershirt still tucked in. He’s huffing about it, and finds himself being ogled. Connor stares at his ski pants, the practical but clunky suspenders sitting way too tight over his chest and gut. He self consciously gets up from the stool he’s sitting on to pull on his jacket - a fairly tasteful one, much to his dismay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor stops him, his hands blocking him from putting the jacket on, and his hands roam all over his torso, fingers tracing the suspenders and snapping them once against Hank’s chest. This very idea that he can have this gorgeous man, looking practically edible in his black polo and tight yoga pants is strange. Having the man straight up getting frisky because Hank of all people, is in long johns and old skiwear... It’s hilarious, and he laughs in response. Connor snaps out of it, glaring at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” he asks defensively, but Hank just pulls him into a quick kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing, just not used to being felt up in this sexy outfit,” he just says, earning a slap on his ass when he goes to fetch his scarf. “Of course you just straight up look like a-a fucking model.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor sniffs. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> a model. Also I have taste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch,” Hank snorts, holding a hand over his heart as if wounded by the implication, even as he sees Connor going back to studying his chest through the slit of his jacket. “Are you gonna get dressed or are you gonna feel me up for the rest of the day?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tempting,” Connor mutters, but starts pulling on his own clothes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s been so long since he last went skiing, that he can’t even remember when it was. He never went with Cole - he was too small, too scared of sports in general, and Hank didn’t want to force him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wait for the lift that will take them up the mountain, a long way up, and while he feels confident in his ability after a few turns in the beginner slope, he starts feeling nervous for other reasons.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” he asks for the third time, and Connor rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve downloaded software that will help me get down there without breaking my neck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And it’s not gonna be like your ice skating?” Hank smirks, shuffling his skis forward as the queue moves. Connor looks affronted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, I hadn’t calibrated correctly-” he starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, okay,” Hank says with a wave, his ski pole accidentally bumping into Connor’s. “I just don’t want the mountain rangers to find you in pieces on the off-piste.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fine. I’m more worried about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’ll </span>
  </em>
  <span>fare on the intermediate slopes,” Connor says, his voice starting to get a little annoyed, and Hank doesn’t think much of it. “If you fall, you might actually break a leg, and neither your hip nor your ankle is fully healed yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is true, and Hank does feel a twinge of pain every once in a while, but he surmises that it won’t be an issue as long as he doesn’t go crazy downhill, and as long as they take breaks.“We’ll just have to take it easy and see, won’t we?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They finally get on the lift, an old, creaky one. The staff motions for them to get in position, and oh how long this has been, Hank feels when he holds Connor’s arm and looks back to time the moment correctly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They manage to get a lift alone this time, which Hank is grateful for. It allows them to talk openly, and Hank can enjoy the view of the valley and the trees. His beard has already started to frost, by now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor looks around, smiling. He looks like he’s enjoying himself, and Hank reaches over to grab his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey sweetheart,” Hank says, feeling his heart thud at the smile he receives in return. “I’m glad we’re here. And I’m sorry for being all mother hen on you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor’s face softens, and he leans forward to pull Hank’s scarf down from his face and give him a kiss. “I’m glad you care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the last thing he says, before scooting just a little too close to Hank’s side, and causes the lift to shift down. Connor’s entire body stiffens, and there’s something close to panic in his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all right, you just shifted the weight a little too much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t calm Connor down at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Connor squeaks, holding Hank’s arm in a vice like grip, scrunching his eyes shut. The lift rocks a little, and Connor makes another high-pitched noise in the back of his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor?” Hank tries, starting to get a little worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m. Fine,” Connor manages to get out of his mouth. “My system is overloading.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s all he says before they reach the top and they both slide down the ramp towards the slopes, Connor’s gait a little wobbly now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank studies Connor closely. He seems like his usual self, making his way towards the slopes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It seems like they’ll have some fun up here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until they get further down the mountain and the only way down is an intermediate slope that looks like a fucking wall. Hank feels shivers down his cold toes, up along his legs and spine as he glances over the edge of the hill. It’s not as steep as it looks, he thinks, and he finds comfort in the knowledge that he’s done these levels before. His foot is starting to ache again, the preemptive pain killer he took this morning leaving his system. To be honest he’s not looking forward to pitching down there, but he’d rather get this over with, and he glances towards Connor to tell him to not wait up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he actually takes in Connor’s face. It’s twisted in what Hank can only describe as horror. He’s standing next to Hank, his ski poles close to his chest, his body looking like it’s trying to lean as far away from the precipice as possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor, baby,” Hank says, grabbing his arm, stroking it in what he hopes is a comforting way. Connor turns his scared eyes to him, swallowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay,” Connor tries, though his voice is shaking terribly. Hank observes him for a second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sweetheart, are you scared of heights?” He expects a snide remark, some aloof answer, but Connor doesn’t say anything - instead, he stares at Hank, large doe eyes pleading.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want us to call the rangers, get a snow scooter back down?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Connor answers, force behind the word. “No, I can do this. I just need to…” he waves his arms around, “Need to gather my thoughts a little.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... All right,” Hank says after a long pause, studying his expressions and trying to gauge the scale of Connor’s distress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After five minutes of back and forth, Hank manages to start leading Connor down the slope. They both agree that the quicker they get down, the better, so they opt for keeping their skis on. Hank sticks close by, only going down a few paces at a time, then waiting on his okay leg while Connor shimmies down, making sharp turns to minimize the speed. Sometimes Connor has to stop for a minute, looking like he's giving himself a mental pep talk, his LED flashing yellow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a while, and there are definitely people staring, but Connor looks less frightened the closer they get to the ground. Similarly, Hank’s heart feels lighter once the slope starts to even out and Connor actually starts skiing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How about we stay clear of the mountain for now?” Hank suggests, and Connor looks relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could go again, if you’d like,” he says, but Hank sees the anxious lines on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babe, I’m dead on my feet. How about we grab some late lunch and take a break at home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Connor murmurs, staring at his feet. "I don't know what happened up there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"<em>Babe</em>," Hank says again. "We're not going back up there. I want you to be happy, okay? And we could perhaps go down the beginners' slopes later, or just get that hot tub and sauna going tonight, instead."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor is quiet. He is struggling with something, Hank can tell, but after a few seconds, his LED goes back to blue. His eyes crinkle in a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That actually sounds amazing."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first day of skiing wasn't as successful as Hank assumes Connor imagined, but damn it if they're not gonna have a good fucking evening. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Some well deserved rest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank says 'fuck it' and takes Connor to the spa.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What do you say to a trip to the hotel spa after lunch?” Hank asks casually, revelling in the way Connor looks at him like he just told him he owns a Porsche and a mansion.</p><p>They’re cozied up in one of the ski lodges serving food and drinks on top of one of the hills. They found this place this morning, happy that they could reach it without going on the sit lift. It’s dark inside, though the window seats do light up the place a little. Up on the walls are old pictures, weird posters of old ads for canned food, a drawing of a pack of reindeer… In the middle of this cafe is a fireplace, one which Connor insisted on sitting close to while they eat.</p><p>Hank has to peel off his jacket, almost too warm now in his full gear, which feels like it was Connor's plan all along. Who knows why he finds Hank in this getup hot - but he's not about to complain. It's nice, warming his feet and enjoying the atmosphere, while sipping on coffee and hot soup. Connor is warming his hands and face over the fire, claiming that his joints started to seize up outside. Hank doesn’t know if that’s true, but he finds it sweet that Connor is enjoying this experience the way it’s sort of intended.</p><p>“You don’t wanna go another turn?” Connor asks, “We might not get out again after this.”</p><p>“Do you wanna go again?” Hank says. Connor shrugs.</p><p>“Maybe. It’s a lot more fun when I don’t have to tell my systems to not shut down in self defence.” He smiles at the laugh it earns him. “But spa? I looked it up, it’s…” he bites his lip, “It’s pretty expensive, what with all the android shit in there.”</p><p>The idea of surprising and spoiling Connor is a favourite of Hank’s, and he grins wider. “I uhh. Spoke to the receptionist this morning, while you were turning on and off again--”</p><p>“That’s not the correct term for--”</p><p>“-And they agreed to let us slip in there this afternoon. You know, after they fucked up so profoundly at our expense. Might even catch a little treatment for my boyfriend.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Connor laughs, incredulous.</p><p>"I should have let you in charge of everything," he giggles. </p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>It’s after three hours in the warm spa, that they decide to get dressed and go back to the cabin, feeling mushy and relaxed.</p><p>The spa had floor to ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the mountains and the forest surrounding them, the icy cold a fantastic contrast to the heat inside. Connor and Hank were wrapped in fluffy robes, enjoying a secluded spot by the windows, joined on two divans. Hank had found a place to get icy water with cucumbers in it, and enjoyed sipping on that while watching the snow fall outside and listening to the calming music in the relaxation room. He hadn't been to a spa in years, and had forgotten how lovely it feels.</p><p>The other rooms had salt water pools, a hot tub, waterbeds and a shit ton of other stuff that they didn’t have time to go through.</p><p>Hank loved the pool with different water jets working as a massage for his back when he stood under them. Connor floated along, looking utterly pleased, crawling with his hands like a crocodile slowly making its way through its pool. Hank laughed at that imagery when he thought of it, but didn’t know what to say when Connor asked him about it, and only grabbed his face to kiss him on the lips, sinking down the water with him. </p><p>Spending so long in warm water has done wonders on his body, and he feels so relaxed now that he almost wants to go to sleep right now, missing out on the rest of the vacation.</p><p>Connor looks pleased as well, having had a lot of time to snuggle up against him in the hot baths. The only place that they couldn’t stay for long in was the sauna. Hank does love spending time in there, sweating and letting all toxins flush out - he doesn’t actually know if that’s a myth or not, but the imagery is satisfying. Connor managed one minute in there, before he stumbled out, explaining in a staticky voice that his body didn’t appreciate the heat. He blamed it on some machine stuff, but Hank bets his ass that Connor just didn’t enjoy it. He sat outside the sauna, waiting and wistfully looking at Hank through the tinted window, until Hank had to give it up and go back outside to the less steamy parts of the building.</p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Are you disappointed?” Hank asks that evening, as they light candles and huddle up under the blankets on the sofa. Since the beds are uncomfortable as fuck, and since the radiators are doing jack shit for the temperature, Hank suggested that they might as well sleep in the living room for the last night. </p><p>Connor looks over at him, leaning his head against Hank’s arm behind him. He looks pensive. “No. Why, should I be?”</p><p>Hank shrugs. “No. I just mean that you seemed to have a lot of expectations on this weekend, and well…” he gestures around the room, “It didn’t go exactly as you’d planned, did it? Not that I’m complaining,” he adds quickly, “I’ve had a great fucking time, I just… Wondered.”</p><p>“Hm.” Connor purses his lips in contemplation. “No, I think this was as perfect as it possibly could have been,” he eventually says. “Granted I was very disappointed at the mix up, but this was a welcome surprise. I like that I got to see you like this.”</p><p>“Like what?”</p><p>“Comfortable. Happy. Relaxed.” Connor’s smile is so warm. “I don’t know if I’ve ever really seen you like this before.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“I mean, we’ve been so busy all year. You’ve been doing so much work, and there’s been a lot of changes to take in. I know humans can find new circumstances difficult to process. But today for example, I’ve seen a decrease in your cortisol levels, and your face is more relaxed. I like it.”</p><p>“You’re very sweet for a man that can break someone’s neck in a heartbeat,” Hank says, feeling that warm fuzzy feeling bloom in his chest. </p><p>They’re quiet for a second, enjoying the crackle and spits of the fireplace. The heat warms their feet. Outside, wind has picked up, howling through the cracks of the cabin. Hank leans his cheek on Connor’s head.</p><p>“So, we’re doing this, then? We’re a couple. You’re my…” He can’t really bring himself to say it, but he doesn’t have to.</p><p>“I’m your boyfriend,” Connor whispers, snuggling closer.</p><p>“Yeah,” is all he manages, feeling his throat close up. He listens to the fire, watches it dance, the light flickering and making shadows move on the walls, and he wonders if anything could ever top this feeling right here.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Back home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Coming home from vacation can be as stressful as leaving was.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The drive back to Detroit is calmer than the drive up. While Connor mourns the fact that he won’t get to see mountains and pine tree forest when he wakes up tomorrow, he is glad that they managed to get away at all, what with Hank's injury and their workload. And Hank has been so good, so understanding and loving even through Connor's nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank has been great, but Connor is starting to get tired. It's not that he hasn't been able to sleep - he has, but he needs to clear out and clean up in his system. It makes his fingers twitch in nervousness. In retrospect, he wishes that he had booked another couple of nights, so that maybe they would have gotten a chance at the suite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The weekend went by too fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has to remind himself of the fact that they are both still free until new year’s, that they have plenty of time to enjoy the holidays, though he is already stressed about the days passed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank plays some slow jazz that he swears is classed as “Christmas themed” in the car, and since he's promised not to fall asleep on the way back they have to stop for a sugary coffee drink with a vanilla caramel swirl in it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Hank manages about two hours this time of driving through dreamy, snowy landscapes and soft music before he falls asleep. Connor doesn't mind. He finds the calm of the outside paired with the constant White noise of the engine oddly comforting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank eventually begins to snore softly. He looks so relaxed, lines in his face smoothing out as he smacks his lips. It's good to see him relax. Connor hates that once the next year rolls in, the tension in Hank's shoulders will return, and they'll be back on square one. But for now, they're both free, and calm, and things will be fine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Back in Detroit, they pick up Sumo on the way back, the beast wagging his tail furiously and licking their faces. Seeing their dog again makes Connor long for the couch at home, so when Hank stalls in the doorway, making chit chat with Jess and Chris, there's an unpleasant hum singing through his wires. He starts bouncing his knees in the passenger seat when Hank comes back after about five minutes - and because Hank took much longer than he calculated, Connor looks like the awkward android who just decided to sit in the car instead of talking to their friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not like they have any place to be, but he wishes to unpack and get some rest. Sumo howls from excitement when Hank fastens his seatbelt and turns on the engine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor can’t keep from reaching his hand to the backseat and petting him on the last miles back home while Hank drives, a little recklessly, in Connor's opinion. The road is, after all, covered in ice patches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they're almost home, Hank's stomach growls and they decide to stop for takeaway, Connor for once not putting up a fuss about the sodium content. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully they left early enough for the sun to still be up, and they don’t have to navigate the snow with nothing but street lamps to illuminate their way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank grumbles under his breath when they get to the driveway, barely able to park the car in its usual spot. He swears again when the wheels skid for a moment, and Connor wants to chide him for his language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drums his fingers on his knees, bouncing them one, two, three times before opening the car doors and letting Sumo out. The snow is already covering up most of the front window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house has grown a few feet because of the constant downpour of snow, the Christmas lights that they put up weeks ago are barely visible. Sumo rolls in the snow while Connor carries the bags to the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead of helping, Hank grabs a broom from the garage and begins to sweep the lower parts of the roof, letting snow fall down. He breaks off the icicles that have formed by the rain gutter and throws them on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s for safety reasons, so no one will be attacked by several pounds of snow and ice on their way out. Connor knows that, yet he nearly loses it when the bags he's carrying get stuck in the doorway, one handle held by the doorknob, and Hank just stands outside, wiping the roof like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>should be his number one priority. Parts of Connor’s HUD are now flooded with warnings that tell him that something is wrong. He shakes it off, knowing by now that those threats of danger are usually accompanied by this… frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mood doesn’t improve when they come inside, because one quick scan of the internal temperature and electrical schematics tells him that there’s no electricity in the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank catches on as soon as he comes in and flicks on the light switch. Because nothing happens, the house is still dark except for the light coming from the windows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. Fucking peachy,” Hank grumbles. “No electricity.” he's tensing up, his pulse elevating as he checks out whether the neighbors have the same problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house is freezing, so cold even Connor starts to shiver a little. The tap water is still running, but it's a finite resource especially if they count the warm water. According to the supplier of the neighborhood, the outage has been going on since this morning, and the company will be trying to solve it during the night. Connor wonders if they’ll have to wait longer than that. The fridge and freezer are pretty old but they will manage another night, though they might have to move milk and such to the backyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna have to call someone tomorrow.” Hank sighs, resignated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Already contacted the on-call staff,” Connor informs him just as he sends the message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He follows Hank with his eyes, watching as he bends over to look into the old hearth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Too bad the fireplace hasn’t been swept in years. And we don’t have any fuel for it, anyway." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor holds back a remark about Hank not being prepared for these kinds of accidents - there's no point in complaining, and of course there is no room for Hank to stock firewood in the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He observes the fireplace. It looks… dusty, but it might be worth cleaning out to get a fire going. Maybe if Hank could go to the store while he…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank plops down on the couch, stretching his arms and legs. Logically, Connor knows he must be exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emotionally, he wants to just scream at him to get up and help him fix this. Clenching his fists in the pockets of his hoodie, Connor finds Sumo’s bowl in the kitchen and starts filling it up with food. It’s easier to distract himself with mundane tasks right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor? Are you okay?” Hank calls from the living room. He keeps his arms in front of himself, carefully trodding towards the kitchen - of course, his night vision is impaired due to age. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, why wouldn’t I be,” Connor answers, just a bit too short. Hank twirls his finger around his right temple, mirroring the place where Connor’s LED sits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re lighting up the kitchen in red, Babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Nothing.” Connor doesn’t know what to say. His irritation is twitching through his hands and neck, the need for his coin rising. He rolls his shoulders before taking Sumo’s water bowl to the sink. Unfortunately, Hank follows, standing right behind him and caressing his arms. It’s supposed to be calming, and usually it is, but Connor bristles anyway. Turning around sharply, he shakes Hank’s hands off of him. Hank’s heart rate climbs quickly, and for a terrible moment, Connor worries for his well being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he receives a message from the on-call android telling him that there’s a high probability that the power won’t come on again for two whole days, and they’ll need him to send their customer IDs among other things. It blinks in the periphery, red and annoying while Connor designates a background process to finding out where Hank keeps those details -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Connor?” Hank tries again.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Why can’t you keep track of your own damn things!?” Connor asks, or rather, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouts </span>
  </em>
  <span>at Hank. His internal cooling fans start spinning on full power as his temperature rises with his temper. “You don’t even keep the fireplace clean, you didn’t help me carry the bags inside and you drove too fast on the road - And now we have no electricity”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The things he lists on his hand sound awfully trite, but they have been building inside of him quickly, pissing him off more and more. Once he says them out loud, however, he’s starting to feel.... Well, mortified.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Obviously unprepared for this outburst, Hank stares at Connor like he’s just grown two more heads. His hands are shaking. Connor’s are, too. His LED washes Hank in a dystopian sort of light, a sick red that he doesn’t like - especially with the horrified look on Hank’s face. His system starts coming down, as he can feel his stress levels go down as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a few moments for the room to stop feeling so hot and oppressive, despite the obvious chill in the air. Slowly, Connor sees his LED climb down to a still yellow, through the reflection on Hank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I.” Connor snaps his mouth shut, not knowing how to go on. He doesn’t want to take back what he just said, he just wishes he could have talked about it like a grownup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank takes a deep breath, blows it out slowly, and Connor finds himself mimicking the motion. He’d expect Hank to blow a fuse right here and now, and the look on his face tells him that he’s fighting against that instinct. While he gathers his thoughts, Connor opens his mouth again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… To yell at you.” He feels stupid, now that he lost some steam. Hank’s lips are a thin line, his arms crossed defensively. But then, he sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, didn’t know you were so… I’m sorry for adding onto your stress, Connor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s so calm and collected that it throws Connor off completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not gonna shout back? Seriously?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank tilts his head in consideration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, I don’t think I did anything wrong by making sure the roof won’t collapse in on itself before going inside. But I guess my depression hasn’t exactly been a motivator when it comes to keeping this house up to snuff.” Hank shrugs, and Connor silently agrees that they’re both valid points. “I’m sorry, still. I hope you believe me when I say that I didn’t know you were this stressed out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor considers this. He hasn’t been showing any outward signs of stress. That was the point. Hank was going to have a relaxing weekend where he didn’t have to worry about anything. And now Connor has gone and thrown all this shit at him. His stress levels are going back up, and then he sees Hank shivering in his too-thin sweatshirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank gives him a tight smile, though he reaches for him and puts one hand on the back of Connor’s neck, which he assumes means that they’re not fighting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, do you need a minute? I can check all the rest, get Sumo some water and unpack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Connor says immediately, grabbing a hold of Hank’s sides. Hank smiles, stroking his thumb along his neck. A shiver runs through them both, and Connor is once again reminded of how cold it is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you be okay with getting some firewood? I could clean the fireplace, get it ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure thing. Actually, I might be able to borrow some from the Nelsons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Put another sweater on, and take the thermal socks as well,” Connor says, smiling and yet also feeling the pressure of saline tears in his eyes. If Hank sees them, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he kisses Connor’s forehead and turns to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They manage with a couple of large warm water bottles under the covers of the settee that they’ve pulled out, Sumo for once being allowed with them as they go to bed. The three of them lie close together, shivering through the layers of clothes and blankets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once Hank got a fire going, it became easier to stay inside without Hank’s lips turning blue, but he’s still chilled to the bone, and Connor tries to warm him up. He feels bad for shouting, not entirely sure of how to navigate arguments with Hank, now that they’re actually partners. Thankfully, Hank seems ready to guide him through those obstacles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While they got a fire going, Hank asked Connor to tell him what had ticked him off, and discussed how they could both handle this better the next time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room slowly warms up through the heat of the fire. Hank’s hands are no longer cold as ice, his temperature at a more stable level, much to Connor’s relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He changes the warm water bottles once, only using as much hot water as he can without having them run out. He comes back to press them against Hank's feet and sides. Hank doesn't wake, only snuffles and scoots closer to Connor. He throws an arm around him and pulls him close.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. A day at home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With a feeling they might have outdone themselves with their vacation, Connor and Hank stay at home with some classic holiday films.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A large lump of snow falls from the roof with a loud thud, and it startles Sumo, causing him to look up and bark. It wakes Hank, and by default, Connor's systems turn on in a flash. Connor bolts out of bed in a second, scanning the place for potential threats, which makes Sumo whine in worry. When it's clear that the noise coming from outside is snow, Connor calms down, sitting back down to pet Sumo. Sumo licks his palm, nervous energy making his body tense. Hank is sitting up in the settee, breathing quickly until Connor confirms that it was nothing to worry about.</p><p>Sumo lies back and falls asleep within minutes, but the sudden shock causes Hank to stay awake for longer than usual, his pulse thudding loudly in Connor's audio receptors. </p><p>When it becomes clear that Hank won’t calm down, Sumo wakes up, getting restless too. Without Hank needing to say anything, Sumo crawls up to lie down next to his owner, licking his shoulder.</p><p>If Connor had been awake earlier, he would have registered Hank’s sleep cycle and know why he’s so stressed now. Most likely, he was having a nightmare before waking up, one he'd prefer not to talk about, by the look on his face. He’s staring up at the ceiling, breathing deliberately slowly through his nose.</p><p>The fire has died down, the house temperature sinking slowly. It's still not as freezing as when they got home, but he feels himself scooting closer, wrapping the covers around Hank, breathing hot air onto his neck. Hank's heart rate comes back down to a normal bpm, but he also stays wide awake.</p><p>Connor is tired. Very tired. But the argument from before is still ringing through his mind, and he needs to know that Hank will sleep okay.</p><p>"Do you have any Christmas stories that you used to read as a child?" Connor asks, hoping to get Hank off of whatever his mind is stuck on, cuddling closer to him.</p><p>Hank frowns, brows pinching in thought. Connor looks at him and thinks about how beautiful his profile is - something Hank would immediately dispel if he ever told him that. Hank sees wrinkles, spots and graying hair as a failure, as something unatttactive and unlovable, a sign that he's reaching his end. What Connor sees is skin that tells a story, shows how lucky Hank is to have lived this long. His laughlines, the white hairs in his beard --</p><p>Hank clears his throat, getting ready for an answer, and Connor stops analyzing his skin.</p><p>"Well, there's the classic. Uhh. <em>Night before Christma</em>s, I guess. Used to read that one for Cole on Christmas eve. Didn't read many other fairy tales like that. Fuck, but I used to love the Grinch who stole Christmas. Mom always read it to me as a kid, making all these silly voices." He smiles softly, and Connor thinks of the horrified look on his face when he snapped earlier.</p><p>"Oh yeah?” he asks, urging Hank to go on, to remind himself that Connor thinks the world of him. That Connor loves him so much, regardless of the stupid things he said.</p><p>"I just really enjoyed the rhymes a lot," Hank admits. It's sweet. “I liked the story, and the world inside it. I also really wanted a dog like Max, thought he was adorable.”</p><p>“You liked dogs as a child?”</p><p>“Yeah, always have. We used to have a St Bernhard named Sandy. She was with us for ten years. Great friend.”</p><p>“Is that why you got Sumo?” Connor can’t stop asking questions, both curious to find out more about Hank, and determined to lull him back to sleep.</p><p>"I think I could download the grinch as an audio book, if you'd like to listen to it?"</p><p>"Nah. I know it too well, would be weird to hear anyone else but my mom read it out loud," he yawns, his pulse slowing down, his breaths evening out. </p><p>"Could you tell me about it, then?"</p><p>Hank sighs, not in exasperation though - he's just starting to go back to sleep, which was Connor's plan all along. </p><p>Ten minutes of slow, yawn-filled story telling later, Hank is softly snoring again. Connor smiles, stroking his fingers through Hank’s hair, enjoying the softness of it. He kisses Hank on the nose, shuffling closer until he can lay his head on Hank’s chest.</p><p>The stress from earlier has evaporated, slowly but surely. </p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>For once, Hank wakes up before Connor does, the light streaming through the windows hitting his eyes like fucking spotlights. It takes a while to gather his thoughts, to open his eyes and get his brain back online.</p><p>Once he's awake, he looks over at Connor, who snores lightly. Who knew androids snore? It's adorable, that Connor keeps his breathing turned on even though he doesn't need it. When noticing that his dad isn't sleeping anymore, Sumo perks up from the foot of the settee, wagging his tail and jumping to the floor and bounding towards the backyard door.</p><p>Getting the hint and chuckling to himself, Hank drapes the covers around Connor's shoulders, and makes his way outside. The snow is now blocking most of the doorway, a wall of white presenting itself as he opens the door. Icy air blasts through, the sunlight almost hurting. The chill sends a jolt through him. He swears, grabbing a shoehorn from the hallway and begins to carve a way out for Sumo to  get his needs met. But even the big dog isn’t very keen on the outside today, which he makes clear by barely walking two steps before shitting and then trotting back inside. </p><p>It's still early. Too fucking early. Connor is still sleeping, completely motionless while in deep stasis, except for the rise and fall of his chest.</p><p>Hank feels terrible for not knowing how high strung has been. There has been so much focus on what they should do and how to do the things before December is over. But Hank has not thought about just... Resting. Neither has Connor, of course. He isn't built for rest, after all.</p><p>Hank should know better, should know that rest must be the number one priority on vacation.</p><p>He makes an executive decision, then. They had planned to get the Christmas tree today, but with the mass of snow, the weird mood yesterday, and Connor's outburst... Hank thinks it's better to take a rain check on that.</p><p>It might be a while until Connor wakes up, so Hank decides to get the day-of-rest-and-nothing-else going.</p><p>Thankfully, just as he ponders what to do about breakfast, his phone rings. It's the electrician informing the neighborhood that the power should come back on at any moment.</p><p>Like magic, he sees the clock on the microwave oven blink 00:00, the kitchen lights turning on.</p><p>Fortunately for the house, Connor remembered to unplug most of the electronics before bed. They forgot the hallway lamp, which blinks awake, causing Connor to shift in his sleep. He blinks slowly, sitting up with sleep ruffled hair and a white glitch on the side of his face that he slept on. He looks so cute, Hank thinks, and he has to get over to the couch and give him a morning kiss. Connor returns the peck on his lips, but looks quizzically at Hank.</p><p>"You don't have to do that, you know," he says, voice just a little static. Hank can't help but smile.</p><p>"No, I always gotta. How are you feeling today?" </p><p>Connor considers this, frowning as he's probably going over every part of his body.</p><p>"Well enough. I don't feel as tense anymore."</p><p>"Good, cause we're gonna be relaxing like there's no fucking tomorrow," Hank says, sitting down and pulling Connor into a hug. He hears Connor take a breath. It sounds like a giggle.</p><p>"No fucking tomorrow? What if that was my plan all along?"</p><p>Hank takes a few seconds to process that, then he pretends to be annoyed, playfully shoving Connor off. The bastard giggles harder at the sight of Hank's red face.</p><p>"That's it, you're sleeping on the couch from now on."</p><p>---</p><p>With the electricity back on, they keep the radiators on full blast to make the house warm and cozy, and neither of them look forward to the next time that they'll have to leave to get food. Hank suggests they get takeaway again, a suggestion which is met with a stern "No" from Connor. </p><p>At least they don't have to go for long walks today, as Sumo looks perfectly content with resting in his dog bed. </p><p> “I’m afraid there won’t be much action from either of us today,” Hank calls from the kitchen. When the coffee is ready, he pours it into a tasteless cup shaped like Santa Claus, along with another <em>Julmust</em> and a bagel he found in the freezer. </p><p>Connor is sitting comfortably on the couch, a thick blanket thrown around his shoulders. His usual pristine clothes have been changed into one of Hank’s old hoodies, paired with Connor’s own sweatpants - dark blue and with a perfect fit for his slim form. The hideous thick socks are still on his feet.</p><p>“Good, I don’t really feel like going out anyway.”</p><p>Hank plops next to him, throwing an arm around his shoulder once he's deposited his breakfast on the coffee table. They turn on the TV, content with watching some old action movie running on one of the channels. With blankets and pillows in the way, they have decided against folding the settee back. Instead, they wrap themselves up in them, enjoying the softness and warmth. </p><p>Hank is reminded of the note on the calendar, the event for tomorrow. He hasn’t talked to Connor about that, yet, and he wonders if it has been on his mind lately.</p><p>"So… how are you feeling?" he starts, testing the waters for Connor's mood.</p><p>"About?" Connor tilts his head to the side, shuffling closer to dig his head under Hank's chin. Hank kisses his forehead, encouraged to go on.</p><p>"About the party tomorrow?”</p><p>Connor hums, waiting a second beore he answers.</p><p>“I don’t know. I feel… Nervous, I guess?” Connor says. “What about you? Do you think we should...”</p><p>"Should what?" Hank asks. "Not go as a couple?" He really doesn't want that - He wants to show off with Connor by his side, to hold his hand and kiss his cheek, to talk to their colleagues about their spouses. Connor bites his lip, looking down at his hands, folded in Hank's lap.</p><p>"No, I don't want that. I want us to be out. I mean, Ben already knows, and Fowler, so why not thirty more people?" </p><p>Hank snorts at the last part, and Connor sits up straight to get a good look at him.</p><p>"Would you be all right with it?"</p><p>“Eh. Think it’ll be fun to see Gavin’s pissy face. He’ll have to think of new material from now on, if he wants to continue teasing me.”</p><p>Connor laughs. It’s cute and bubbly, and Hank’s heart grows three sizes, longing to kiss him senseless on the couch.</p><p> </p><p>“What’s your favourite holiday movie?” Connor asks. Hank has to think hard about that one. </p><p>“I used to love the old black and white one with…” he mumbles through bites of the pie he’s eating, wiggling his hand as he thinks, “Uhh. That guy who’s always smiling. He was in that movie where he was best friends with an imaginary rabbit. Super fucking creepy, by the way.”</p><p>Connor processes this for a moment. “James Stewart?”</p><p>“That’s the guy!” Hank says, snapping his fingers. “Well, let’s see. My parents didn’t like much of the new films out there - well, new when I was a kid - but I did have a vhs tape with Die Hard. Had such a crush on Bruce Willis, heh. And Home Alone. That was always a hit.” </p><p>“That doesn’t sound very christmas-y,” Connor says. </p><p>“It’s about this kid who gets left alone on Christmas because his family forgot about him when they left for the airport. Then he gets scared of an old man with a shovel, and a couple of burglars try to break into his house, so he uhh.” Hank tries to remember any scene, and draws a blank. “Well, he does all kinds of crazy shit to get them out of the house, until they get him and threaten to bite off his fingers. But it ends well. Used to watch that one on replay until my mom hid it in her closet.” This makes him laugh out loud.</p><p>They spend the day watching some classics on the couch. Connor has already watched Elf a couple of times, and he really enjoys that one - While Hank can’t stand the main character, the look on Connor’s face when he watches it is precious, and he finds himself staring more at his boyfriend than anything else. When Buddy the elf jumps right onto the tree to put the star up on top, Connor actually laughs, and it throws Hank completely. Noticing the stare, Connor chuckles, looking embarrassed. “What?”</p><p>“You’re laughing.”</p><p>“Yes? It is a comedy.” The snark is cute, but Hank is intrigued.</p><p>“But you’ve seen it before?”</p><p>“So? Androids can only laugh at something once?” Connor says, eyebrows raised in challenge. Hank mulls that over.</p><p>“Huh, I don’t know. Just felt so… Human, I guess.”</p><p>“If it helps, I just imagined seeing you do that jump, and it made me laugh,” Connor says, and this time Hank is the one to laugh.</p><p>"All right," Hank sighs when the movie is over, and Sumo has been let out again. He plop down on the couch, grabbing the remote from Connor. "You had your fun, now we're watching my favorite." He looks at Connor with a mock serious face. "Don't even think of bringing up every inaccurate depictions of police work or hostage situations, okay? I'm gonna throw you out."</p><p>"Really?" Connor smirks, grabbing the finger that Hank has pointed at his face. He stays blissfully quiet through most of the film, only huffing once in a while when he's having trouble holding in his remarks. Outside, the snow has stopped falling, the afternoon sun making the ground glisten and shine beautifully, and Hank thinks that in this moment, he might be the luckiest man on earth.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They go to bed early that evening, Hank still exhausted from the trip yesterday. When they’re tucked in, Connor pipes up.</p><p>“Markus actually will be hosting a party on Christmas Eve."</p><p>"Oh yeah? Wanna go?" Hank mumbles, already feeling sleepy.</p><p>"I mean. We're supposed to celebrate with family on Christmas,” Connor says. It’s quiet for a second, as Hank tries to understand what Connor is trying to say.</p><p>"Sure, but isn't Markus and the others family as well?" he eventually settles for. Connor frowns.</p><p>"I want to be with you. And…” He bites his lip. “I want to show you off."</p><p>"Hah! Me? Uh. Sorry."</p><p>"You have got to stop doing that." Connor’s lips turn downwards in disapproval. </p><p>"Sorry. I'd love to be your arm candy for the evening. I'll even let you dress me."</p><p>Connor's face lights up at that, kissing him on his jaw, which is the only part of Hank’s face that he can reach from this position.</p><p>"No weird elf costume, all right?" Hank blurts out, and Connor accidentally spits in his face when he laughs, which makes Hank laugh, too. Fucking dork.</p><p>"I can't make any promises."</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Office Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The DPD hosts their annual holiday office party, and Hank and Connor come out as an official couple.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey! Lieutenant and Connor!” the guy who usually stands at the DPD reception desk calls when he sees Connor and Hank come through the entrance. Nick's usual cheerful chirp interrupted when his eyes zoom in on their joined hands. “Oh.” He hears himself make that noise, and claps his hand over his mouth, face reddening when the couple comes closer.</p><p>“Hi Nick,” Hank greets with an awkward wave, Connor tugging on his hand and going towards the safety doors. Connor can’t wave, because the hand not holding Hank’s is busy carrying a tote back and two large wrapped presents. He does nod at Nick before disappearing through the door. Nick, who's waiting for his friends, stands stockstill in place, getting ready for the juiciest gossip he's had in months.</p><p>It’s not that Connor wants to be rude, or even that he doesn’t like Nick - Nick is fine, if a little easily distracted at work sometimes - but this is the first time that he and Hank are going to work as an out-and-open couple. It is, as Hank would say, a big fucking deal. If Connor could sweat, he knows that his palm would be slipping out of Hank’s grasp right about now. He reminds himself to breathe while they round the corner to the bullpen. Hank squeezes his hand reassuringly, and Connor concentrates on the safe pressure against his palm and knuckles.</p><p>He needn't have worried about stares or pointing fingers, though.</p><p>The party is in full swing already, evident as soon as they reach the bullpen. It seems that most people have headed for the open bar, an unusually uplifted spirit in the air.</p><p>There’s old holiday music blasting from the speakers situated in a corner, and a giant plastic Christmas tree that looks like it’s been here for longer than Hank and Fowler. Festive fairy lights hung along the glass room of Fowler’s office, some baubles and ornaments spread all over people’s desks. Connor is relieved to find that not many people notice them at first, completely immersed in their own conversations. He spots the couple of android cops hanging by the windows, waving at them and smiling brightly as they see their linked hands. Connor feels warm and fuzzy inside, a strange sensation indeed.</p><p>He soon notices Ben waving at them from the break room, holding a cup of what Connor assumes is eggnog. The man grins widely when he notices the joined hands as they come over, offering a cup of mulled wine, non-alcoholic, to Hank. He grabs it with a quick “thanks,” taking a sip and dragging a breath through his teeth at the taste.</p><p>“So the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Ben says with a knowing smile, after offering to help Connor carry the presents over to the tree. Connor doesn’t need help, but he is so relieved to have Ben there with them that he accepts it without question. He lets himself trail behind them, listening to their conversation.</p><p>“Hell if I’m gonna have to hear Gavin make jokes about my lack of love life any longer,” Hank mutters, and Connor’s heart squeezes. "Besides, I heard he owed<em> someone </em>50 bucks."</p><p>“He’ll be real happy, won’t he,” Ben laughs.</p><p>---</p><p>It’s not as awkward as Connor has feared. Some officers stare at them, one or two scowling, but they're of the older generation, displeased with just about anything. Most only look mildly surprised. Hank holds Connor's hand through all of it, looking for all intents and purposes like he wants everyone to know about them. He greets their colleagues, explaining to them that, yes, he and Connor are together and yes, Fowler knows. He's smiling from ear to ear when people congratulate them.</p><p>Connor still has trouble speaking, afraid that something might happen.</p><p>Gavin turns out to be the biggest shock of them all. Connor’s not entirely sure what he imagined that Gavin would say when he'd see them, but it’s not,</p><p>“Fuck you, Hank! And I see you smiling like a smug fucker, Ben- stop it!"</p><p>He shouts it all across the bullpen when he enters, staring at them while Hank puts an arm around Connor’s waist. Ben snickers next to them, calling him a sore loser.</p><p>Finally Connor starts relaxing.</p><p>Things are very nice. Connor is offered some sort of drink - it’s just thirium in a glass with a straw, but he’s thankful for the gesture. He hears Ben tell Chris, Tina and several other officers to pay up when they pass their small circle.</p><p>Hank laughs, makes jokes, tells their friends and colleagues about their vacation and the staff’s mistake with the rooms. Connor doesn’t know why he thought that Hank would be embarrassed about that part, but he smiles, warmth spreading through him at the look on Hank’s face while he retells the first night in the cabin.</p><p>Hank keeps surprising him by showing Connor a side that he hasn't truly seen before - a glimpse into who Hank perhaps was before the accident.</p><p>He remembers an officer's parent who's sick with Alzheimers, emphatically and quietly asks her how she's doing. He tells one of the younger detectives to say hi to his kids from him, getting a smile in return, followed by what Connor assumes is an old, shared memory those two have.</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p>The fact that most people don’t seem to care all that much is exhilarating. They have sat down at a group of sofas, leaning back and chattering away. Connor mostly leans against Hank, feeling close to bursting at the knowledge that he’s allowed to do so, that he belongs here, with him.</p><p>He can’t read Hank’s mind, but he feels the way Hank squeezes his side every once in a while, he notices when he turns to him, his expression soft and loving.</p><p>Connor loves him so much that he’s afraid it might consume him. </p><p>Gavin scoffs at their public displays of affection, but it’s not in malice, Connor doesn’t think. </p><p>---</p><p>It’s not until Fowler nudges Hank and tells him to get dressed into the Santa suit that Connor notices how tense he was when they got here. Even though it doesn’t really matter, he really has been nervous about this evening, about how others might react.</p><p>Connor can’t fight the grin on his face when Hank blushes as he stares into the bag with the red robe, looking horrified.</p><p>“Seriously, Jeff?” he hisses, leaning forward and dropping his arm around Connor. Connor mourns the loss of warmth. “There are like six kids here, and two of them aren’t even old enough to know where they are!”</p><p>“You made a commitment Hank,” Fowler chides him. “So you better fucking step up.”</p><p>---</p><p>“This suit itches!”</p><p>Hank scratches his arms and his back again, complaining loudly about the unwashed old fabric clinging to his body. Red isn’t exactly a color that works on him, and next to Connor’s styled suit, he looks like a homeless man.</p><p>“One hour of this,” Connor says as encouragingly as he can muster, even as he holds the edge of a chair to support himself as he laughs. “Oh god, I didn’t know I needed this image in my life,” he squeaks while Hank pulls the red hat over his ears and corrects the fake beard, his scowl deepening by the second. If Connor couldn’t read his vitals, he would be worried that Hank actually is pissed off.</p><p>“I’m gonna kill Jeffrey,” Hank mutters, “And you.”</p><p>Connor takes pity on him and controls his laughter, though he feels his mouth twitch every once in a while. He fills the bag with presents for the kids and helps Hank carry it out the bathroom. He sees the misery in Hank’s posture. He looks so embarrassed, to have to go out there with the ho-ho-hoeing and the itchy suit, that Connor takes pity on him.</p><p>“You know,” he says, pretending that he’s thinking hard, “Maybe it’s not just kids that get to sit on Santa’s lap tonight.”</p><p>Hank stops in his tracks, holding the door to the bathroom open. He turns his head around, the beard swinging around and becomes crooked on his face. He’s glaring at Connor. “Huh?”</p><p>“I mean,” Connor continues, deliberately looking up at Hank through his lashes. He comes closer, pulling on the lapel of the red coat, “ If I can behave and be a good little elf, maybe I get to be in your good graces later tonight, Mr. Claus? Unless you think I have been naughty?” He finishes off with a coy bite of his lip, wiggling his shoulders a little. Hank stares at him, frozen solid, but the rise in his heart rate doesn’t go unnoticed.</p><p>Then Hank laughs, pushing him off and calling his bluff.</p><p>“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me. Jeez,” Hank groans and wrenches the door open the rest of the way. Connor knows he’s got him, and he follows along with a bounce in his step.</p><p>---</p><p>Hank as Santa is very sweet, actually. Damian recognizes him, but he’s too small to express that in words, so he just smiles and babbles on Hank’s knee while Chris takes several pictures of them. Jessica is there as well, and she stands next to Connor while Chris tries to make Damian look into the camera. She bumps his shoulder. </p><p>“So. You and the Lieutenant?” she says, smiling warmly. Connor finds that he likes her a lot. “I was wondering about you two when you came to visit. Didn’t think to ask then, but I tried to fish for information after you left.” She shakes her head. “Chris didn’t believe me, he said, ‘that’s just the way those two act. Hank is a very warm person, he can’t help but take care of others like that.’ Well, guess he’s gonna eat his words.” She laughs at that, like it's her own little inside joke.</p><p>Hearing someone describe Hank in those terms, in the way that he himself might describe him, makes his stomach flutter. </p><p>He wants to go up to Hank and kiss him, and he is allowed to do so… Though maybe he ought to wait until the kids are done.</p><p>Maybe they can borrow the red robe and pants over night.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Making gingerbread cookies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor and Hank make an attempt at baking.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The day after the office party, Connor enjoys taking time getting out of bed. The Santa outfit is slung across the armchair on Hank's side. The memory of last night pops up, covering his HUD. He grins, probably looking slightly unhinged as he still closes his eyes. Hank is snoring, completely tuckered out.</p><p>It felt special, to be next to Hank last night. To hold his hand and let every single one of their colleagues know that Hank is his. Where this possessiveness comes from, Connor doesn't know - It feels awfully strange to want to cling extra hard to him when he sees others making eyes, to glare daggers at them when they aren't looking his way.</p><p>Letting out a loud yawn, Hank turns in bed and slings an arm over Connor's chest, humming in contentment when he snuggles closer. </p><p>"I never wanna get out of bed," he murmurs.</p><p>"I thought we were gonna bake, though." Connor giggles as Hank groans. "I can do the heavy lifting. You just sit in the kitchen and look pretty, Doll."</p><p>This comment makes Hank knit his brows, frowning at Connor through narrowed eyes. "Doll? Seriously?"</p><p>"Would you prefer Baby Doll?" Connor asks, barking out a laugh when Hank recoils in disgust.</p><p>"No. Never. I'd prefer you go back to Hank, thank you very much." </p><p>Hank stretches in the bed, his back cracking and creaking. He has bags under his eyes. Connor wonders if he had a nightmare last night, and wishes that he had been awake to comfort him - Though Hank has told him off on several occasions about that. Apparently it's creepy to configure your systems to alert as soon as your partner moves in bed.</p><p>"How about you let me get some coffee and let Sumo out, <em>then</em> we can get baking, Sugar."</p><p>Now <em>that's</em> a new one. Connor raises an eyebrow when Hank turns around, already sitting up in bed.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I get to call you Doll if you get to call me Sugar," Connor says, and the disgust on Hank's face is, honestly, hilarious.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The whole house reeks of burnt gingerbread. Anyone sneaking a peek into the backyard might just assume that the kitchen is on fire. Sumo has fled the scene, now chilling outside on the lawn away from the fumes. He might have stolen a piece of dough on his way out - a piece that he most likely will throw up later.</p><p>Inside, the kitchen is filled with smoke, even with windows open and Connor fanning vigorously at the oven with a baking tray. Hank is trying to scrape the cookies off of the now blackened tray in the sink, the ugly shapes of gingerbread men burned into the metal. </p><p>It’s not the way they’d imagined baking would be like, and Connor would consider this a failed mission. </p><p>It's good that Hank starts laughing after a while - once he has stopped cussing out loud about the smoke and the cookies when he catches Sumo stealing them. The music coming from the speakers is drowned out by the obnoxious fire alarm beeping at such loud volume that Connor almost stops his fanning to urge Hank to wear earplugs to protect his ears.</p><p>A short moment is all it takes for him to hack the alarm and get it to shut up.</p><p> </p><p>Another hour of ventilating passes, and Sumo trots inside with a cautious wag of his tail. Both men have crashed down on a chair each, Connor cleaning the burned dough off his fingers, Hank leaning against the backrest, wiping sweat off his forehead and smelling his dirty clothes.</p><p>"Ugh. Gonna need a wash after this," he mutters.</p><p>"You or the clothes?" Connor asks, eyes focused on carefully picking blackened gingerbread from the underside of his nails. </p><p>"Harr-harr. Both."</p><p>They sit a while longer. When Sumo whines worriedly, Hank leans forward to calm him down, shushing and murmuring calming words.</p><p>“How about we try that again?” Connor asks, getting out of the chair to work on loosening the poor gingerbread men from the tray again. A good stabbing with the handle of the spatula until small pieces are chopped off seems the way to go. Hank groans.</p><p>“You’re kidding right?”</p><p>Connor scowls at Hank, sitting on the kitchen chair with a cup of coffee now - “to calm down” . Connor hates to point out that coffee is not the optimal solution for that. </p><p>“No, we set out to make them, we’ll do it again.” He frowns at the oven. “I’ll just make sure we put the right temperature on, this time,” he continues with a pointed glare at Hank, who simply raises his hands in defense.</p><p>“My bad, my bad. Sorry, can’t make shit out without my reading glasses.” Hank tightens the too small apron around his midsection, the red and white squares stretching around him. There's flour all over his clothes now. It's a size too small, barely covering his shirt and pants. The frilly edges are lovely on him, though.</p><p>“Uh-huh,” Connor answers while leaving the tray in the sink for now, digging out the other batch of gingerbread dough from the fridge. <em> His </em> apron is new, a present from Hank with some silly pun on it, a snowman who "dabs" in the snow and references some obscure joke that only Hank seems to get. He doesn't quite catch the joke, but it makes Hank smile, so he keeps it on.</p><p>“Does that mean you’ll roll the dough this time?” Hank asks hopefully, massaging his wrists. </p><p>“Well, now that you’ve shown me so well how to do it.” He gets a light jab in his side as a reward, and he jumps out of the way, laughing, cracking up.</p><p>They have to take another break while Hank changes his clothes, putting the smelly clothing into the washing machine.</p><p> </p><p>They sit down together, Connor rolling the dough on the table, while Hank mindlessly draws circles on his back, humming along to the music in the speakers, an old song with raspy audio quality. Neither of them are particularly good singers, but they don't mind, singing and humming while the dough is prepared. Connor has taken a liking to the music of Michael Bublé, something that Hank finds utterly adorable.</p><p>Connor has found a dog cookie cutter for the gingerbread, and it's the only one he uses, leaving the boring classic shapes for Hank to cut out. He chides him for eating the leftover dough when they lift the cookies onto the tray, and Hank chews louder in response.</p><p>"You're just jealous that I can eat it."</p><p>Connor glares at the dough between Hank's thumb and finger, his lips twitching. Then he dives forward, biting off a piece, causing Hank to yelp.</p><p>He immediately spits it out, scrunching his nose. Hank guffaws. </p><p>"Not- not your favourite?" he wheezes in between coughing fits. </p><p>"I think I prefer the scent," Connor rasps, then makes a disgusted face. "Ugh! I can still taste it on my tongue!"</p><p>“Take some <em> Julmust </em> to wash it down!” Hank laughs, again pronouncing the name so wrong that Connor barely understands what he’s saying.</p><p>“Keep that disgusting sugar bomb away from me!” Connor yells while rummaging through the fridge for a bag of thirium. He only takes a mouthful to clear the taste, then sits quietly while his tongue sanitizes itself.</p><p>"Maybe you'd preferred the burnt ones," Hank cackles, punching at his own chest when he chokes on gingerbread and starts coughing.</p><p>"I prefer you not choke to death, <em>Doll</em>," Connor hisses, but he's laughing now, too.</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Hank's dark secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hank's friends have a surprise gift for Connor, and Hank is not happy about it.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s this?” Connor asks when Ben and Jeffrey are coming through the door. Jeffrey has pulled up a package from his bag, handing it over to Connor in the hallway.</p><p>Hank has invited them over, along with their spouses for dinner - a surprising, but welcome, suggestion.</p><p>Ben gives him a wicked grin, as Jeffrey innocently says, “Just a present as thanks for staying with us for a year now. And of course for sorting out this idiot."</p><p>“Though maybe you should wait before opening,” Ben adds, clapping Connor on the shoulder. “Hey, Hank!” he calls when Hank peeks around the corner of the hallway, dressed up in a moss green button up shirt. </p><p>Connor’s pump leaps everytime he sees how beautiful he looks, hair pulled back in a low bun and beard trimmed. Hank hugs his friends, then freezes when he sees the package now in Connor’s hands. There's recognition in there, along with dread - perhaps he recognizes what's in the flat, bendable package.</p><p>By the flexibility and measurements, Connor's guess is that it's a magazine, or perhaps a calendar. He knows some people of the older generations still prefer to keep their dates and birthdays jotted down on paper.</p><p>That’s a rather thoughtful, if unnecessary, gift.</p><p>So why is Hank glaring daggers at Fowler?</p><p>"I'll fucking kill you," Hank growls, groaning with a stare up at the ceiling while Ben and Fowler start howling with laughter. "Don't tell me that's what I think it is."</p><p>"It is exactly that," Ben answers with glee.</p><p>“What is it?” Connor asks, intrigued now.</p><p>“Oh, I had to dig through every closet at the station to find an ex of this.”</p><p>"Should have stayed buried," Hank mutters, and pads back to the kitchen. "Connor, you best fucking throw that gift in the trash."</p><p>Connor fiddles with the edges of the paper, hastily wrapped, which suggests either that Ben is a terrible gift wrapper, or that this was a quick decision. Were he and Jeffrey divided in whether this was a good gift - or undecisive? Hank’s reaction suggests that it contains sensitive information, perhaps.</p><p>He won’t be able to open this gift until their guests leave, and he has to force himself not to think about the present on the coffee table.</p><p>---</p><p>The evening progresses in a pleasant fashion, once Hank forgets the wrapped present. It is nice, being able to lean back in his chair and listen to the old friends boast about their younger days, of telling each other about their workload… Connor observes the ways they interact with their spouses, the casual touches and inside jokes, and his insides whirr uncomfortably at that.</p><p>He wonders if that’s how he and Hank look to the others. He hopes it is.</p><p>--</p><p>It’s not until the dinner party comes to an end, and the guests pack up their things to leave, that the gift comes right back to the center of Connor’s mind. </p><p>He zooms in on the coffee table, analyzing the quickest way to tear open the wrapping paper. </p><p>"Have fun," Ben's partner calls through the door as they leave.</p><p>"Yeah, thanks," Hank mutters.</p><p>As Hank closes the door behind him, he stares at Connor’s frame, already heading for the table. He groans loudly when Connor picks it up, feels the ridges and, to lighten the mood, holds it to its ear and shakes it.</p><p>“<em>Fine</em>. Fuck. Just get it over with. Fucking assholes,” Hank mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and flopping down on the couch. He pats the cushion next to himself, urging Connor to sit down. Which he does. “Just be nice, all right?”</p><p>Connor doesn’t understand the request - when is he not nice? - but he nods and starts lifting the tape from the bright red wrapping paper. Hank tenses even more.</p><p> </p><p>Connor was so sure that he was going to find something ridiculous or embarrassing, that he’s surprised when he tosses the paper to the side to find… A calendar?</p><p>He stares at it, flipping it over. It’s not meant for use next year, he concludes - the year printed on the cover is 2019, 20 years ago - the shiny paper is dented around the edges, and he’s pretty sure there’s a coffee stain on there.</p><p>He’s about to admit to himself that this was just a joke present from Hank’s friends, when…</p><p>“The DPD calendar for charity 2019,” Connor reads aloud, his systems stuttering as he recognizes the faces on the cover - A much younger Ben, and Jeffrey, and--</p><p>He swallows at the sight of a twenty years younger Hank, more filled out in his clothes, his hair wavier and longer… Curlier, less gray and more… Sandy blond?</p><p>“This... This is,” Connor starts, but clicks his mouth shut. Hank takes a deep breath in, leaning forward with elbows on his knees, to explain.</p><p>“We were hopping on the bandwagon of firefighters doing this shit every year - topless ripped men holding kittens and puppies and who fucking knows what else. The police had been brutal against marginalized people for so long, we were seen as a threat rather than protection.” He shrugs at that. “Which was fairly accurate. I mean, I wanna say that most of us wanted to do our jobs, but that doesn’t mean jack shit if there’s still fucking power-drunk assholes with a trigger happy finger. You can’t trust any cop as long as these idiots hang around. So our captain at the time suggested we do a calendar, but without guns and shit. I remember how offended some of the officers were, when Ben dressed up in floral patterns and put flowers in his beard.”</p><p>Connor starts to go through the catalogue, absorbing the informational texts on each spread and slowly taking it all in. </p><p>Jeffrey has got hair in these pictures, and Connor smiles to himself at his cover, the month of May. He sits in the driver’s seat of a patrolling car, hand suggestively on the gear stick, the backrest leaned back so he can spread his legs. Connor must remember to compliment his captain on this photo, he thinks with a grin, then continues.</p><p>Most of the covers are suggestive, but tasteful. They sure show a softer side of the police, one that people don’t see all that often.</p><p>“Did you guys sell?” he asks.</p><p>“Nah, turns out most people would rather buy firefighters with puppies. Go figure,” Hank says with a chuckle. “Though our partners at the time had a field day about it. And we managed to at least raise a fair amount - not nearly as much as our captain had hoped, but a respectable sum.”</p><p>“Tss,” Connor snorts at the word “respectable” coming out of Hank’s mouth, but then he gets stuck on what Hank just said.</p><p>“Our partners?” he asks, tearing his eyes away from the cover of a police woman in a Lara Croft getup, lifting weights in the station’s gym. “You mean.. You’re in this as well?”</p><p>He assumed that the reason Hank was embarrassed was because of the picture of him on the front cover, seeing as Hank isn't comfortable in front of the camera. Connor did not think that he might actually have… Hank’s face heats up, according to Connor’s thermal scanners, and he turns beet red at Connor’s conclusion.</p><p>“Fuck,” he swears, leaning back. “Just flip to the last one.”</p><p>The last one. December. Connor opens it slowly, like he’s waiting for a bomb to go off.</p><p>Hank covers his face with a pillow, and in any normal circumstance Connor would have died of cuteness aggression at the sight of Hank this embarrassed. As it is, he can barely function beyond, <em>Hank topless Hank topless oh my, Hank in his thirties topless with hairbun Hank with a corgi topless and a Santa’s hat what--</em></p><p>He can’t take it all in, there’s too much information.</p><p>It’s Hank. Hank in his thirties. lying on his side in front of a fireplace with no shirt on, the fly of his jeans suggestively open. His chest is hairy like it is now, but the hair is darker, more concentrated around his chest and stomach, like he trimmed it. He smiles wickedly into the camera, like he knows that Connor is staring at him, feeling the analyzing fluids flood his mouth at the sight.</p><p>There’s a corgi in the photo next to the one by the fireplace, the dog and Hank sitting together in a less sexual way, thank god. He can see the tooth gap in that photo. There’s no tattoo yet inked on his chest, and it sort of makes Connor pause.</p><p>When he looks back up, Hank has started to pull the pillow down from his face, and he’s eyeing him suspiciously. Connor drags his eyes along his partner’s face, his body, and there’s a spike of stress hormones pumping through Hank’s body as he does.</p><p>“Finally reminded that you’re dating an old man, huh?” Hank asks, the self deprecating comment completely pointless to Connor, but now he understands why Hank is so pissed.</p><p>“You think I don’t know that?” Connor asks, brows knit as Hank rolls his eyes. “So this is why you didn’t want me to see this?” He points at the photo.</p><p>“I mean. You can’t look at that photo and back at me and think that I’ve aged gracefully.” Hank waves a hand at the calendar. “That man used to be me. I <em>used</em> to be… And now, I’m. Well. Look at me.” He makes a show of pulling on the fabric of his shirt. There’s a mustard stain on it, Connor notes.</p><p>“Hank,” Connor says, feeling just a tad annoyed. “The way I see it, your friends just gave me an insight to a part of your history that you haven’t shown me yet.” He looks at the photo again. “But you’re right, this man on the photo isn’t you anymore. I’d frankly be terrified if he was.” He tilts his head, scanning the picture. “You don’t have the scar on your side there. When did you get it?”</p><p>Hank sighs, and Connor can tell he’s doing his best to not be mean and defensive. He takes a breath, then presses against Connor’s side to get a better look. “I-uh… I think it was the year after? Things were pretty fucked up in ‘20, I had to observe a lot of demonstrations with a mask on. Someone stabbed me, a fucking MAGA idiot. Jesus. I think no one was the same after that year, honestly.” </p><p>Connor does a quick search of the year 2020, and after reading the first twenty headlines that pop up, he thinks he can understand what Hank means.</p><p>“What about your tattoo?” he asks, pointing at photo-Hank’s chest.</p><p>“Oh,” Hank laughs. “that one came years later. Did it on a dare after the promotion. Ben got a tramp stamp of a Lotus flower. His partner was not happy about that.”</p><p>Connor tries to imagine Ben with a tattoo like that.</p><p>---</p><p>They stay like that for a while, as Connor points at stuff and Hank tries to remember.</p><p>Hank doesn’t look as tense anymore, which only makes Connor more curious. He wants to know everything about this man, and if Hank thinks that he’ll be less attracted to him after this, he is completely off. When Hank finally puts an end to the interrogation, he closes the calendar and kisses Connor on the cheek.</p><p>“Think that’s enough for today,” he says, patting Connor’s knee. Connor pouts, disappointed because he hasn’t even started on the parts of photo-Hank that are hidden behind fabrics.</p><p>“But I have more questions.” Then he thinks of a brilliant idea and perks up. “Can we continue if I get to observe your legs in real life instead? Makes it easier to spot the scars and tattoos.” </p><p>Hank laughs, an open, happy belly laugh. Connor kisses him, kisses his lips, his cheeks, his eyelids, feeling giddy all over.</p><p>“You’re so fucking lucky that I love you,” Hank laughs, then coughs a little as Connor stops in his tracks. </p><p>That probably wasn’t meant to come out, he thinks. Afraid that Hank might take it back, Connor continues to kiss him, straddling him and pulling lightly on his hair tie. Hank seems to forget himself, and Connor pretends to not have picked up on Hank’s confession.</p><p>It’s too much, and he doesn’t know how to respond yet, so instead he pops Hank’s shirt open, button by button. He pulls the fabric apart, tracing the tattoo on his chest with his fingers, hand sliding lower down until he can start undoing Hank’s belt and fly. </p><p>On his knees, he looks up into Hank’s eyes, hands poised to pull down his jeans, and when Hank smiles softly with bedroom eyes, he goes to work. </p><p>He thinks about how lucky he is that he gets to experience this man, that he has someone who not only cares for him - but loves him.</p><p>The man in the photo from 2019 has got nothing on Hank in his fifties. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Christmas tree shopping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Still a little awkward after the impromptu love confession, Hank takes Connor out to buy a Christmas tree.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Finally, Hank and Connor manage to go outside to buy a Christmas tree. It has been put up for too long, mostly because Hank had to clear out the back of the car to fit a tree inside. Connor is practically bouncing up and down, urging Hank to <em> hurry up </em> when he takes too long tying his boots. </p><p>The nervous energy is cute, and Hank understands the excitement - this is yet another thing that Connor is doing for the first time. And Hank gets to introduce it to him.</p><p>He reminds himself for the fifth time today that Connor’s still here, still wants to be here with him, and that they’re doing all this shit for <em> him. </em>It’s his first Christmas tree, and Hank will make good on his promise to make this first - sort of- Christmas experience a good one. </p><p>It’s difficult to not think about his slip up yesterday - saying that he loves Connor in such a fucking casual way. It makes him cringe when he thinks about it, and he prays that Connor didn’t catch his admission - Though who is he kidding? That guy sees everything, how would he ever miss Hank telling him he loves him?</p><p>And Hank does. He loves him so much he swears his heart hurts whenever he looks at him. Feeling giddy and nervous like this is a foreign sensation, one he has missed. He hasn’t had butterflies in so many years that he almost forgot what it feels like.</p><p>When he blurted out those words last night, he was just… Happy, and he had to say something. Connor made his feelings clear as he pretended not to hear what Hank just said, which in itself is an extremely fucking unusual thing for Connor to do. Then he got down on his knees to diffuse the situation. And Hank was too vulnerable, too filled with emotion, to say no to that, desperate for Connor’s touch.</p><p>Jeez.</p><p>The snow is still lying thick on the ground when Hank goes out and locks the door behind him. Thankfully, there’s been no more snowfall in the past few days. The path that Connor shoveled on the driveway is still usable, making it easier to get to the car.</p><p>It's going to take a while to get to the place, allowing Hank to gather his thoughts in his seat. </p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>The cold is biting into Hank's cheeks, turning them ruddy and itching. He pulls his scarf up higher over his mouth and nose, hot breath ghosting over his eyes now. </p><p>Connor wears a fluffy, deep blue scarf as well. He doesn't need it, only wearing it as an accessory, but damn if he isn't the hottest damn thing Hank has ever seen. He looks up at Hank as they exit the car in the parking lot, and looks too smug for Hank to not kiss him.</p><p>The tree sale is outside, and it's at the fuck end of town, but they serve coffee and for an extra fee they let you cut down your own tree. It is worth the long drive to walk among the trees hand in hand with Connor, looking for the perfect trees. It’s usually a honey farm with acres of woods around them. The owners have a small shop that Connor and Hank venture through before going back out in the freezing cold. </p><p>The snowflakes falling from the roof of the shop land softly on Connor's hair, and he blinks away the ones that get stuck on his lashes. It doesn’t melt as fast on him as it would on a human, so when they enter the shop he has white all over his head. Hank has half a mind to ruffle his hair to let the snow fall around him, but he reigns it in. Connor is immediately immersed in all the lables on the jars</p><p>They end up buying a jar of orange flavored honey before heading for the tree sale. Connor looks perfectly pleased about the paper bag that holds the jar, with the farm's logo on it. Hank leans into the urge to grab Connor's neck and kiss his temple, right over his LED. Connor looks back at him, smiling warmly, his eyes bright.</p><p>As they walk through the lines of trees, signs of each sort presented at every aisle, they pass people carrying their trees back to their cars, couples arguing over height and price. Children are running between the rows, screaming in delight when they catch each other.</p><p>Connor sneaks his hand into Hank’s. Hank's face heats up. He squeezes Connor's hand. It feels perfect.</p><p>He almost agrees to buy a small tree for the backyard, though they both back out of it when they realize that Sumo's just gonna piss all over it. Yellow snow is not gonna be a good look for the poor tree, Hank jokes when Connor pouts about it. He still would like to have one outside, but maybe they should save some things for next year.</p><p>
  <em> Next year.  </em>
</p><p>Shit. Last December he didn’t even think there might be a <em> next year. </em></p><p>---</p><p>It gets clear, after browsing the selection of trees for over an hour, that Connor is not going to settle on any of them. Hank tries to add useful comments and opinions, but to him it’s just a bunch of trees.</p><p>In the end, they both decide to pay extra to chop down their own tree - go hard or go home, Hank says. Connor grins widely.</p><p>They catch a salesman standing by one of the signs, and the three of them head to the edge of the area, where there’s an axe and another device for netting the trees. Once in the area, Connor immediately zooms in on one tree, which is at perfect symmetry, but it's just asymetrical enough to look real and homey. That's Connor's explanation, at least.</p><p>"You wanna have a go?" The salesman asks, reaching the axe over to Hank. He is about to accept it and try to pretend like he knows what he's doing, but Connor is looking at it like he's trying to force it into his own hands. Hank bites the inside of his cheek.</p><p>"Care to do the honor?" He asks, offering the axe to him. Connor looks at it and accepts, looking like he just received a fucking diamond ring. Excitedly, he starts shifting it between his hands, swinging it lightly to get a feel of it. Hank looks over to the salesman, who starts to look nervous at the giddiness, as if Connor might start chopping at him instead.</p><p>Before Connor starts, Hank asks him if he's really sure about this one, because it does look awfully big.  “It’s high enough to be impressive, but not so that it will bend at the ceiling. And it’s thick, but still sparse enough to let the baubles hang freely," Connor says primly, then swings the axe again and goes to town before the salesman has time to instruct him.</p><p>The tree falls within the minute when Connor starts, effective and strong in his chopping technique, the strength beneath the thick coat visible in the way he swings. Hank would be lying if he said that it isn't super fucking hot seeing Connor like that. Connor lights up when the tree falls, leaning the axe over one shoulder and looking so fucking proud. </p><p>“Having fun?” Hank asks.</p><p>“Very,” Connor says, emphasizing the word as he hands over the axe to the salesman, who’s looking speechless.</p><p>----</p><p>They net the tree and carry it back to the car, or rather, Connor does. Hank gets to pay and unlock  the car while Connor gets ready to push it through the boot. When they finally drive down the road back home, Hank gets pine needles in his mouth, one of the twigs sticking out of the net. Connor laughs at his spits and sputters. </p><p>The sound is beautiful, and though Connor doesn’t seem ready to say the three words back to him, Hank can’t ever regret falling so damn hard for this dork.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Decorating the tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Connor has a vision. Hank's just trying to live up to it.</p><p>(They decorate the tree, and Connor is the captain, now.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Early the next morning, Connor decides that it’s time to decorate the goddamn tree, much to Hank’s dismay. His back is still aching from getting the tree to stand up in the living room. That, and having to move furniture left and right while keeping Sumo away until it was securely in place. He had to sit with an ice pack pressed against his back throughout the evening, muttering to himself as Connor pondered whether a 3 degree inclination of the tree was acceptable or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Hank blearily squints at the coffee mug in his hands, barely awake,  Connor’s walking between the garage and the living room, picking up the Christmas elves they bought the other week, as well as all the tree ornaments that he could find. Hank doesn’t recognize a lot of them, and he suspects that Connor has been ordering them online. It’s not long before Connor becomes impatient with him, shooting him looks until he finishes his breakfast to come help him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They work in silence, putting up decorations on every empty surface in the house, and it’s kind of nice. Even though the house looks like Santa’s fucking workshop by the time they’re done, Hank finds that he likes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Connor pulls out tree lights and glitter all in different colors though, Hank has to put his foot down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I like lights and colors as much as the next guy, but I think that we should pick a theme,” Hank says, eyeing Connor’s side of the tree. The poor android looks between them, uncertain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t like it?” he asks, voice small. Damn it. Hank folds almost immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It looks great, honey. Hey, fuck themes, you can have as many things in there as you like,” Hank says, unable to diminish Connor’s excitement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank suddenly remembers that he has a present for Connor, one that he has been hiding in the inside pocket of his coat. A robot, a silly thing that he saw in the store the other day. He couldn’t just leave it. Connor glances at it, gives him an unimpressed look, and for a beat Hank thinks the joke might have offended him. Then Connor definitely looks like he’s trying to suppress a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really Hank?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Saw it and thought of you, Sugar,” Hank smiles, reaching over to put it at the top of the tree. Connor jabs his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not yet, lights go first, </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>ornaments!” he chides him, though there’s a large grin on his face. Connor eventually chooses one string of lights with red, green and yellow colors, a loud color scheme that makes them both smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hank gladly follows Connor’s instructions, even though he has to hang baubles with seven different colors, all hanging too close to each other due to lack of space in the tree. It’s worth it to see the sparkles in Connor’s eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s late afternoon when they finally deem the work as finished, and Hank is sore like fuck. The sun is going down, darkness looming outside while the outside decorations light up, though the living room is lit up in various colors, warm and festive. It looks pretty great, Hank thinks. Especially for a newbie like Connor, who looks proud as a peacock when he takes a few steps back to observe the end results. Hank pulls him into a side hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very nice, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Doll,” Connor smirks, leaning his head against Hank’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The memory of the beginning of the month, when they had stood like this out on the front lawn watching the outside decorations, comes back to Hank’s mind. He thinks of how different things feel right now, how many steps he and Connor have taken together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still knows. He hopes that Connor does, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The evening progresses slowly. Hank is watching a game in the bath, hoping to relieve the tension in his back muscles. He nearly falls asleep in there, lulled by the scent of the fancy bath bomb and the white noise of the game. Thankfully, one of the teams scores and the loud cheers bring him back, wide awake. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he exits the bathroom, steam rolling in waves across the ceiling, Hank finds Connor lying down under the tree, staring at the lights. One quick look around tells him that he’s been there since Hank left him to take a bath. Connor asks him how his bath was, but doesn’t make a move to get off the floor, still focusing on the lights. Hank would like to make a comment about it, telling him that he'll go blind if he doesn't blink soon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Having fun?" he asks, sitting down with a grunt next to Connor. His LED is barely visible, a camouflage in the tree decorations. His eyes flicker all over the place, dark eyes reflecting the colorful ornaments and lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's so beautiful, Hank." There's wonder in Connor's voice, a reverence that Hank really doesn’t hear that often. Then Connor’s hand searches for Hank, trailing over the side of his leg, an obvious invitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Making a decision, Hank lies back with a grunt, though he has to squint against the onslaught of lights and colors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It really is," he admits. Didn't even do this with Cole, he thinks. There’s no particular feeling about that statement though. He just observes the novelty in this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sumo lumbers over, wondering what the idiots are doing under the tree. When Connor reaches up to pet his giant head, Sumo huffs and lies back against his side. They barely fit under there, all three, and Hank is almost pressed into the wall just so Sumo can fit in there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know if Connor wants to be quiet or not, so he closes his eyes and waits, hands folding over his belly</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor inhales.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so thankful for getting to spend the year with you," he says fondly, reaching for Hank’s hand resting on his stomach. Hank squeezes his grip, turning his head to look at Connor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too, Con. Hey,” he adds with a palm on their joined hands. “I meant what I said the other day, about… You know. I wanted it to feel more special, for you to hear it, but… Well, it is what it is. And,” he struggles for a moment, clearing his throat. Connor is looking at him through big doe like eyes, his dark eyes mirroring the red and green lights from the tree. He looks like he could be on a fucking Hallmark card, the way the glow from the lights makes him look practically ethereal. “And. I don’t want you to feel obligated to return those feelings, or-or to say it or anything like that. You don’t owe me anything, all right? And I… Well, I meant what I said,” he rambles, hearing the way he repeats himself, but this feels important and has to be said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Connor searches his face, eyes glossy. Hank worries that the kid will start crying, and his heart races. Connor doesn’t cry but blinks away the stray tears in his eyes, and Hank can’t restrain himself, has to raise his hand and cradle the side of Connor’s face. Connor smiles through the tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. For letting me be with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, believe me, I’m the lucky one here. It’s a goddamn privilege to be by your side,” Hank mumbles, stroking Connor’s cheek. He hates sappy confessions and dramatic declarations of love - Or he thought he did, at least. With Connor here, he wishes he could own the words of all great poets and writers out there, to explain the pain pounding in his chest when Connor turns his head to kiss his open palm.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Plastic Glow-up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>With Christmas, and the party at Markus', creeping up on them, Hank decides to get a haircut. It gives Connor an idea as well.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Connor is feeling the pressure of the season.</p><p>Last winter, he thought it was just a silly human thing, emotions complicating one single day, the concept of commercialism feeding into the myth of spirituality and thankfulness.</p><p>This winter, he's overpowering his software by anxiety about what could possibly go wrong for Christmas Eve, not to mention Christmas day.</p><p>Will Hank expect a gift? Will he expect a <em>thoughtful </em>gift?</p><p>Most of Connor's income, which isn't that substantial, was wasted on the "luxury suite" that they never got. </p><p>Hank is planning on getting a haircut before the party. Should Connor do something similar? He can change his hair length and color easily enough, so it doesn't feel special. </p><p>And what is he going to wear? Markus is surely going to wear something fancy--</p><p>Connor is fretting and slowly spiralling all morning, until Hank tells him to get the fuck out of the house. </p><p>Hank joins him at the shopping mall later, where they’re about to split up and get each other presents.</p><p>At least, Hank is, after lecturing Connor on the spirit of things, which is to "not waste any more cash on an old fuck like me. I mean it, Con. I really don't need anything but you and Sumo."</p><p>Dejected and with no idea of any gift, Connor makes a plan to get some supplies for maintenance, to spruce up and look presentable for the party -though the leaders of Jericho are kind and accepting, there’s a part of him that feels a need to show them that he’s doing all right.</p><p>North, one of the leaders, doesn’t like humans for understandable reasons, and if Connor’s gonna stride into the Manfred mansion with his human partner he’s gonna need to look as put together as he can with Hank next to him. Why North’s, or anyone in Jericho’s opinions matter, he doesn’t understand, but they do</p><p>Hank leaves him in the mall with a quick peck on the cheek, telling him that he’s going to go find a drop-in place to get a proper haircut, and soon Connor is alone in the mall. He still doesn’t know what to get for Hank - despite the man insisting on being difficult about it whenever he’s asked. </p><p>And what about Connor himself? He doesn’t really need anything, though he understands that it’s more about the concept of giving that is the point of Christmas presents. </p><p>As he ponders what to get his boyfriend, he turns a corner and finds a place called “Plastic Glow-up”. He recognizes the name from ads and news outlets - It’s a maintenance center-turned-"android spa”, owned and run by androids. Connor read about it in the news a few months back, but never cared to try it out. </p><p>“Why not?” he whispers to himself as he makes a beeline for the entrance, feeling silly and intrigued at the same time. </p><p>A woman greets him as he hangs off his coat. She is tall, chestnut hair pulled into a long braid down her back, a golden septum shining from the warm spotlights in the ceiling. Connor doesn’t know what he expected walking in, other than a sterile and glorified shop for spareparts and biocomonents.</p><p>“Hello RK800, my name is Kayla. How are you today?” she chirps, reaching a hand out for Connor to shake. He takes it, letting the interface through.</p><p>“Connor,” he says, and her eyes widen. “Yes, <em>that</em> Connor.”</p><p>“Wow, never thought I’d see the day,” she says in awe, but she probably sees the pinched expression on his face and drops it. “Well then Connor, I don’t suppose you’ve been here before?”</p><p>“No. Only heard through the grapevine,” he smiles. "Can't say I wasn't curious."</p><p>Kayla takes this as an invitation to a tour around the place. It’s bigger than he thought, and he finds the plants and flowers a nice touch in a place that used to be only grays and whites, metal interior and tacky shop windows. He sees rooms hidden behind a screen door, and when Kayla notices, she begins to explain.</p><p>“This is supposed to be a place where androids can just relax and get stuff fixed, with as little triggering exposure as possible. As you may well know, most of us deviated with loads of baggage.”</p><p>Connor nods. He knows what she means.</p><p>“Of course, we all need maintenance just as much as humans need to see the doctor once in a while, but going into one of those Cyberlife stores and being hung up by wires while humans do their shit- it’s not a fun experience, as you may well know. So we’re trying to create a safe haven here - A spa, of sorts. The rigs are more comfortable, for starters you don’t need to hang in the air, we’ve made it more efficient and we’ve started some stimulation massages for those who’d like it.”</p><p>“What’s that?” Connor asks, unable to mask his interest. He has been adapting to the human world for so long, built to blend in. He does enjoy a lot of the things that Hank does, for example, but there’s not that much that are purely android-specific.</p><p>Kayla’s eyes light up at the question.</p><p>“Oh, you’ve got to try it! I can transfer the list of ingredients that we use, but basically once we’ve done the basic checks - y’know, audio receptors, optical units, pump regulator levels, blah blah - you get to try different sensory overloads. Some androids enjoy turning off their sight, some want to simulate the sound of bird songs. We use this massage wand thingy, and rub it all over the android’s body." She lifts up an electric device, and the phallic shape makes Connor have to reign in a childish laugh. Hank has ruined him. "The parts they’d like us to stay away from, we leave. It’s a very relaxing moment, according to our customers.”</p><p>Connor doubts that, but he keeps listening. He would be lying if he said he’s not interested.</p><p>"You wanna give it a go right now?" Kayla chirps. "I have a free spot until three."</p><p>"Oh, uh, I'm afraid I can't--" Connor starts, recognizing the heat underneath his skin as embarrassment. He can't possibly afford this place. Kayla waves a hand casually.</p><p>"Free for your first time. As long as you leave a review in our guestbook later," she says with a wink. Connor immediately becomes more excited now, as he takes in the other rooms and tools inside.</p><p> </p><p>In the end, he sends a text to Hank of where he is and the approximate time it will take for the treatment, then he goes to lie back in the seat that Kayla has prepared for him.</p><p>On her instructions, he turns off his optical sensors and tries to force himself to calm down. Kayla asks if he can hear her, and he nods.</p><p>It starts off slow. Kayla asks him if he’d like to turn off his synthskin for this, since it will be more effective on the bare chassis. Connor agrees, letting his skin peel back to reveal the white beneath. </p><p>It doesn’t take long for his overactive systems to lag, feeling sluggish. Kayla methodically massages every part of his body, starting with his toes and slowly moving upwards. He’s glad that she’s another android - having a human do this would add a strange sexual or sensual intimacy that androids usually don’t experience. The tension of physical contact doesn’t exist in the same way with androids, since they’re not driven with an underlying urge to connect and reproduce. Kayla’s touch is just calming, his sensors slowing down for every press into his joints, his ridges.</p><p>She plugs wires into the port in his underarm, sending electric pulses that make his skin buzz pleasantly. Like a massage might calm a human, he feels the pulses through his whole body, letting him sink further down into the bed. A cloth drenched in nice smelling oil drags along his torso and up to his skull. Kayla explains that it’s a new formula to help keep the chassis in good shape during the winter. It helps for saving energy for those cold months, apparently. </p><p>Connor doesn’t care if it works, because he enjoys the sensations so much.</p><p>He logically knows that not more than an hour will have passed, once Kayla wakes him up from his meditative state and tells him that he’s done, but it feels too short - he would have gladly stayed here another hour. </p><p>He turns his sight back on, looking around the room. It’s brighter than he remembers when he turned off.  </p><p>He thanks Kayla for the treatment, leaving a glowing review as promised, and a quick glance at the price list tells him that he could probably afford to make these visits at least once a year.</p><p>So relaxed and comfortable in his body, he nearly forgets to turn on his synthskin.</p><p>When he walks out of the treatment room, he sees Hank waiting outside, shopping bags in his hands and…</p><p>“Your hair is so short!” Connor bursts out when he exits the shop. Hank looks defensive at that remark, though Connor only meant it in a positive way.</p><p>“I uh.. Thought it would be nice to not look like a crazy old hermit,” he says, subconsciously touching his now trimmed sides. </p><p>Connor can’t wait to feel the texture beneath his fingertips. He approaches Hank, feeling lighter for every step he takes, planting a big kiss on his lips.</p><p>“You look dashing, Hank!” he says, grinning from ear to ear. "And I have no idea what to get you for Christmas," he blurts, earning a laugh from Hank.</p><p>"That's all right. Hey, did you enjoy yourself?"</p><p>Connor doesn't even think before saying, "immensely," and when has he ever done that?</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. A clean house</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Can you take Sumo out of the house while I clean?” Connor asks Hank during breakfast, startling the poor old man who just woke up. Connor came out of stasis two hours ago - he's already up and running, dusting off surfaces in the kitchen while Hank tries to drink his coffee in peace. The windows are open wide, letting in whiffs of icy air that makes Hank shiver in his old band tee and boxer briefs. Connor stands on a kitchen chair in order to reach the top of the fridge, wiping the accumulated dust off, when Hank sighs loudly.</p><p>“Can’t you close the damn window while I eat? I’ll help you once I’ve had my coffee.” He can barely muster the energy to speak yet, still half asleep, and his voice cracks.</p><p>Connor looks at the window, surprised as if he only just now realizes that Hank might be cold from the drop in the indoor temperature.</p><p>“Oh. Sorry,” he says, jumping off the chair to close it. “I just really want to get started on cleaning.”</p><p>“Why you gotta clean right now?” Hank asks, taking a sip of coffee. “Come on, we’ve got all day."</p><p>Truth be told, Hank thought that Connor wouldn't bother about cleaning before the holidays - after all, it's only the two of them and Sumo. They're going out for Christmas Eve, then they'll be alone at home. In his mind, there's really no reason to start obsessively polish the floors or clear out the fridge.</p><p>Connor doesn't seem to agree. He huffs, tapping one foot against the tiles impatiently. His LED spinning between yellow and red is the only thing keeping Hank from commenting on how cute he looks, with the duster hanging off his folded arms.</p><p>Then Connor opens his mouth, and Hank takes back the cute-part.</p><p>“Yes we could. We also could have started an hour ago if you weren't so slow, but the day has already started and you’re just sitting there like a sloth.”</p><p>“Jeez, all right!” Hank groans, standing up and leaving the plate in the sink. He'll need to talk to him about this, but right now he just wishes to get him off his back about helping. “I’ll clean this right up, okay? Just need to put some- brr- some fucking clothes on.” </p><p>He stomps over to the bedroom and grabs one of his woolly cardigans, muttering to himself.</p><p>When he comes back to the kitchen, Connor has begun wiping the windows. He opens the one in the kitchen again to tell Hank that he'll do the rest of them while Hank take Sumo out for a walk. Hank makes sure he's already turned around before he rolls his eyes.</p><p>---</p><p>The cleaning takes the better part of the day.</p><p>When Connor finally admits that they’re done scrubbing every nook and cranny, Hank throws the towel in his hands into the clothing hamper.</p><p>Exhausted and with aching feet, he swears and lies down gingerly on the bed. Today he has seen more of his house than he's ever seen in the two years he's lived here.</p><p>Connor is still working, picking up the sheets that are strewn across the floor, and heading for the washing machine. There hasn't been much talk between them, and Hank has been pretty irritated about the whole procedure. </p><p>His frustration evaporates slowly when Connor notices that he forgot one of the pillow cases, and comes back in the bedroom. LED spinning red again, eyes flickering between what Hank can only assume are different tasks that he has set up for himself, but not finished.</p><p>When Hank stretches on the bed, only his torso lying against the bare mattress, Connor's focus shifts to him. He stops to give Hank a peck on his stomach, where his T shirt has ridden up. Hank catches him between his thighs, which causes him to stumble forwards, holding him still when he tries to get back up. Connor stares back at him, clearly annoyed at the hold up. In response, Hank beckons him closer, reaching out his hand.</p><p>Reluctantly, Connor grabs it and allows himself to be pulled down to lie on Hank’s stomach. </p><p>“Hey,” Hank smiles. Connor leans his chin on his chest, looking at him with a sheepish smile.</p><p>“Hi. I think I'm stressed,” Connor says, simply and truthfully. "And nervous. About tomorrow.”</p><p>Hank figured as much. “That’s all right. It’s good that you’ve managed to distract yourself for a while, huh?” </p><p>“Yes.” Connor burrows his face into Hank’s shirt, sighing contentedly. It's another one of Hank's favourites, this habit of his. "But It's not just that. I just. I feel like the idea of tomorrow and Christmas morning has been... Hyped up? It's been so.." He pauses, and when Hank looks back down at him, his LED spins yellow. "Romantic. And I'm afraid the rest of it is just not going to be that good. It feels disappointing."</p><p>"Yeah," Hank breathes, carding his fingers through Connor's curls. "That's usually the way it goes. I remember the first Christmas that I felt underwhelmed by it all. It's part of being an adult, I guess. But you know what? The trick is to enjoy as much of those moments as they come. Honestly, I couldn't care less if tomorrow and the next day suck. I haven't had this much cheer in me since Cole's first December." It's honest, and Hank is once again amazed by how much life Connor has brought him. He kisses the top of his head. Connor sighs.</p><p>"Mm. Maybe you're right." His LED finally goes from yellow to blue, pulsing slowly in the afternoon light.</p><p>Hank pats his shoulders twice.</p><p> “Why don’t you lie back for a while, let yourself relax for a little bit while I finish up the laundry? Afterwards we can get a nice hot shower, use one of those soapy things we bought. We could watch <em> Elf </em> again,” he adds, which makes Connor perk up a little. </p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Hank chuckles.</p><p>“You know the sheets are supposed to be washed at--”</p><p>“Yeah, I know how to read the damn wash instructions, Babe.”</p><p>“Fine,” Connor mutters and kisses the corner of Hank’s mouth.</p><p>Hank takes a few turns with the washer and dryer, hanging shirts on the clothing line and cleaning up on the shelves where they keep the detergents. The garage, as well as the rest of the house, starts to smell like fresh linen, clean.</p><p>It’s a lovely smell, and with the fresh air from outside (of course Connor had to open the windows again) it feels almost like he’s been holding his breath for weeks and finally is letting it all out. He hasn’t cleaned this house properly in years, not this thoroughly, and it’s not until he closes the last window and looks about the room that he feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. He takes a deep breath in, thinking of how lucky he is to get a second chance. To make his time worth living again.</p><p>Connor is in stasis on the bed, having barely moved from the position Hank left him in. Maybe he should let him rest for a while. He closes the door to the bedroom and decides to take a moment himself.</p><p>He sits down on the couch, letting Sumo jump up beside him and crawl into his lap. He sits there, petting his dog softly, enjoying the nice feel of his fur under his palms. The Christmas tree is not lit yet while the  sun is still up, but it still looks nice.</p><p>He is so damn lucky.</p>
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<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Life of the party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Markus is throwing a Christmas bonanza party, and Connor is invited.</p>
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    <p>Hank doesn’t know what he expected when he agreed to come with Connor to the Jericho Christmas party. Perhaps he envisioned a fancy dinner party with a live string quartet and disgusting Hors d'oeuvres served by snotty waiters. </p><p>Whatever he imagined, it wasn’t this.</p><p>The first thing he notices when he and Connor get out of the car is the music that blasts out of the house, a funky modern sound that Hank thinks he recognizes as being one of the new android bands’ mega hits. The house itself is lit up in so many different colors that Hank is surprised the neighbors haven’t called to complain. The electricity bills must cost a fortune, he thinks as they make their way towards the front door.</p><p>Connor fidgets with his sleeves as they walk inside, LED yellow and eyes on high alert.</p><p>Hank knows that look, knows it all too well. They’re both nervous. Connor has already warned him of the possibility that he’s the only human in there, and while the thought is creeping him out just a little, he wants to indulge Connor in his search to find his place within the android community.</p><p>If that means heading into a mansion filled with androids that may or may not hate Hank and everything that he stands for, so be it.</p><p>It’s not like he’s in danger, anyway. Connor is one of the most central figures in the revolution, and anyone who’d mess with Hank wouldn’t try anything while Connor’s around. </p><p>Turns out, Hank doesn't need to worry.</p><p>Only one quick glance at the people upstairs is what it takes for him to see that there are humans here, as well. They're intermingled with the androids, either friends, or allies or.... He sees a couple kissing, one being human, and he instantly relaxes further.</p><p>“You made it!” Josh says, smiling invitingly as he finds them in the foyer. He and Connor do their interface thing, and he beckons the pair to come over and say hi to the rest of the gang.</p><p>The main room is in full swing, food and music filling the dance floor. It’s getting pretty difficult to hear anything by the time they enter it - There’s strobe lights and an android band playing on the balcony, and androids are dancing. Hank has never seen androids dance before. There’s a giraffe in the corner, for some reason, and it’s got red glitter thrown across its neck.</p><p>Hank swallows thickly when Josh leads them to the group sitting in a room down the corridor, away from the raging party. </p><p>With Markus in the centre of it.</p><p>Though Hank has seen photos and videos of him, it’s something quite different seeing him in person. Even though he’s shorter than both him and Connor, he’s quite impressive.</p><p>“Connor, I’m so glad you two could make it,” Markus says, a warm tone of voice that immediately sets Hank’s nerves at ease. “And you must be Lieutenant Hank Anderson,” he continues, looking at him and offering his hand. Hank shakes it, and soon he finds that the evening is not going to be so bad after all.</p><p>“Hank, please. It’s an honor to meet you in person,” he says.</p><p>“Likewise. Though I’m not completely pleased, since my guess is you’re the reason that Connor has refused my several attempts to get him to Washington.”</p><p>Hank does a double take, glancing at Connor, who’s LED spins like crazy. Looking embarrassed.</p><p>“Really?” is all he can muster, chuckling to himself as Connor tries to explain. “You told me that they didn’t need you over there.”</p><p>“It’s not like you’d have let me stay if I told you,” Connor mutters, and Hank just laughs.</p><p>---</p><p>They spend most of the evening on the plush couches, Hank and Markus discussing shit about what Markus has been up to in Washington, while Connor tries to break them out of the shop talk. Markus mentions Carl Manfred, and the familiar warmth in his voice as he speaks of his human father figure does something to Hank's throat, closing up and causing his chest to hurt. </p><p>Josh and Simon have apparently been working their asses off, trying to build a network for androids with safety nets and emotional support. Connor gives up on engaging in their discussions, and turns to talk to North instead, bitching about their partners refusing to talk about anything but work. Hank bites his cheek to keep from calling Connor a hypocrite.</p><p>They sit together, though. They hold hands, Connor’s thumb absentmindedly stroking the back of Hank’s hand. Androids and humans alike come over to greet them, wanting a glimpse of Connor, who never really shows up in the newspapers. When he starts squirming in embarrassment, Hank tries to direct their questions back at them, asking how these people met, if the androids have settled okay since last year. Connor gives his hand a thankful squeeze at that.</p><p>The food is all right too, not as fancy as Hank feared when they arrived. There's a lot of sweets as well, and when Connor brings him a plate of his favourite pieces, he kisses him right on his lips.</p><p>---</p><p>Eventually, Hank gets bored of sitting there, so he pulls Connor up from the couch.</p><p>"C'mon, they're playing Mariah Carey, I wanna dance," he says, revelling in the absolute joy on Connor's face. They stop at three different places, whenever Connor spots a mistletoe, and takes a detour to stand under it, waiting for Hank to catch the drift. Hank does, everytime, grinning and kissing Connor sweetly.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t realize how nervous I’ve been about tonight, until you held my hand on the couch,” Connor murmurs into Hank’s ear, sighing ever so sweetly when Hank pulls him closer, swaying to the music. Hank feels stupid and over dressed, not comfortable on the dance floor, but he shuts out all the self deprecating thoughts in his head when he hears those words. Connor hums to the music, his hand flexing against Hank’s back.</p><p>“Why?” </p><p>“I don’t know, I just think… I was thinking too much.”</p><p>"And how's your head now?"</p><p>"Blissfully empty," Connor sighs, chuckling at Hank's responding laugh.</p><p>"Goof." Hank spins him on the floor to the sounds of <em>All I want for Christmas is you</em>. He couldn't stand this song before, but now it might become his favourite holiday tune.</p><p>---</p><p>By the time they’re saying goodbye to the others, Connor promising to come visit for one of their meetings with the president, Hank excuses himself to go to the bathroom, making sure that the secret stuff inside his suit jacket hasn’t been discovered by his nosy boyfriend.</p><p>He locks the door to the bathroom, double checking and looks into the mirror to talk himself into actually doing this. Taking out the garment, he eyes it for a minute, before finally steeling himself.</p><p>"No chicken now," he says.</p><p> </p><p>When he returns, Connor is in a discussion with North again, this time in a pleasant back-and-forth about some new upgrade or something like that. Hank doesn’t even try to pretend that he understands a single word coming out of their mouths, but Connor smiles so he guesses that it's something nice.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready to go, Babe?” Hank asks, putting his arm around Connor’s waist. “It was nice meeting you, North,” he adds, nodding to her. </p><p>She doesn’t like humans according to Connor, especially men. After having read her file around the time of the revolution, Hank understands why. Still, she manages a tight lipped smile when he addresses her, and he considers that a win. He nods to her and wishes her good luck with the work she does on rehabilitation for Eden club employees. Her smile becomes less stiff after that.</p><p>Josh comes over to tell them of their next soup kitchen event, and he even brings Hank into a quick hug when they say goodbye. He really doesn’t need to be so familiar, his warm nature quite charming, actually. Hank finds again that he likes Josh. He smells nice, too.</p><p>Then Josh freezes and pulls away, brows furrowed. </p><p>“Did you hear that?” he asks, blinking over to North, who shrugs, clearly uninterested. She's already heading back into the party.</p><p>“Probably the music,” she suggests, but while she and Josh leave to get back to the party, Hank hears him say, </p><p>“I swear I keep hearing bells jingling. Tiny bells, where the hell…?”</p><p>Hank feels his face burn at the comments, knowing exactly which bells that Josh is referring to. By the look on Connor’s face, he knows too. His LED is red for a moment as he stares at Hank’s crotch, as if he could will his pants to come off and reveal the surprise underneath. Hank shifts awkwardly.</p><p>They get into the car, but Hank doesn’t have time to put his seatbelt on before Connor is on him, straddling him in the tight spot that is the driver’s seat. Hank has to break for air, feeling dizzy as Connor peppers kisses across his face and down his neck.</p><p>He unbuttons the top buttons on Hank’s shirt, hooking a finger in the fold and pulling the fabric away from his skin to observe the new garment. He looks absolutely delighted at this discovery, letting out a low moan that goes straight to Hank’s--</p><p>"You bought this when I was in the Glow Up store, didn't you?" Connor asks, delighted.</p><p>“Well, you did ask for them,” Hank explains defensively as Connor hands travel down to feel the bells on the back, jingling subtly.</p><p>“Oh. Is that for me?” he asks, smiling like a crazy person. His hands come back to the front, feeling the edge of the lace underneath Hank's pants. “I can't believe you remembered," he purrs against Hank's cheek.</p><p>“Haven’t been able to think about much else,” Hank mutters in response. He pulls Connor into a languid, deep Kiss. "Merry Christmas, Babe. Got a nice gift for you to unwrap. Later. As in, not in the car.”</p><p>Connor grins widely, pressing a hard kiss on his lips, lazily grinding down on him.</p><p>"Can you wear the black kimono I bought for you, too?" He whispers, eyes glowing. Hank snorts.</p><p>"Sure babe, whatever you want."</p><p>Connor groans into his mouth, clearly pleased.</p><p>“This is why I love you, Hank.”</p><p>The admission slips out, and Hank's heart nearly stops, his lungs constricting at the words thrown out so casually. Connor seems to realize his words, but instead of backtracking, he envelops Hank in his arms, pressing closer and closer until Hank can barely breathe.</p><p>"I Love you, Hank. I have loved you for a long time."</p><p>Hank's eyes well with tears, and he tries to keep it together. Screw presents and trees, Julmust and gingerbread houses. Sitting here with Connor in his lap telling him that he loves him right here, is the most perfect moment this December.</p><p>"I love you too. Merry Christmas, Darling."</p><p>The End.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We made it!!!! I can't believe it!! It has been a Joy, and a pain, to write this story. I loved it so much, especially with the readers' sweet comment.</p><p>Merry Christmas everyone, stay safe and know that you are all so so so loved. &lt;3333</p>
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